Stay With Me
by wired4romance
Summary: As our happy couple adjusts to life without Muirfield and Bob Reynolds' threats, they find themselves sucked into a case involving a missing child, an old friend, and a beach a long ways from home. Can Vincent find meaningful work outside of 'beast tracking? Find out here . . . .
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - Hi! I'm back with the start of my new story - another episode arc of my very own Season Two series - the one that never ends or goes on hiatus, lol! Hope you enjoy, and please leave me a comment. I love interacting with my readers. xx_

**Stay With Me**

**Chapter 1 **

Vincent's eyes turned amber and he started to wrench himself away.

"No!" Catherine cried and clutched at him.

He gasped, and for a moment he thought he was going to lose control. His eyes went wide and unfocused. He started to shake. Then he pushed away from her so forcefully, it moved them both to opposite sides of the bed. It took him a few minutes to calm down. When he did, he couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "What were you thinking?!"

Catherine struggled for calm herself. Her breath came in and out in ragged gulps. "I-I-I'm sorry. I just can't stand this. It's wrong."

She'd turned away from him, but Vincent heard the tears in her voice. "Sweetheart, don't cry . . . please." He tried coaxing her back toward him, but she wouldn't have it. He gently caressed her hair instead. "Catherine, we already talked about this," he grunted, still reeling from the tremendous physical and emotional effect she had on him. _If it were easy, it wouldn't be nearly so amazing_, he reminded himself, and willed his body to relax. Every day, in every way, their bond grew stronger, and that meant some things became necessarily more difficult. "We can't take any chances. With you off of oral contraceptives, we have to protect—"

"I'll go back on them!"

"No. Your doctor said you've been on them too long, and I agree." He rubbed a hand across his face. "I thought you had reached—"

She swung around. "I did! I did. I was thinking of you. It just isn't the same this way."

He blew out a heavy breath. That was the understatement of the century. He licked his lips. "It's a safe and effective method used throughout history. But if it upsets you this much, I'll just have the surgery. It's not a problem."

"No!"

He sighed, helpless. "It's a simple procedure. And I don't mind."

"Vincent." She raked a hand through her hair, pulling the sweaty strands away from her face, and looked at him. "I don't want either of us to do anything that would cut off our options for the future."

He grinned. He couldn't help it. And laughter was better than this frustrated anguish. " 'Cut off'?"

She grudgingly smiled back. "Sorry. You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." He sobered and rubbed a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. He placed a kiss there instead. "Listen. We're both in our thirties. Time is already against us." He softened that statement by pulling her back into his arms and smoothing a hand down her still radiantly beautiful body. "You know I would do anything for you—for us. Until we come up with a better solution—"

"—or the world changes course and spins in a different direction—"

"Even less likely-I'm no Superman. Just . . . please let me protect you this way." He pressed his forehead against hers and they rubbed noses. He breathed in her scent loving the closeness they had now, even when things were difficult.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "It's just . . . hard. After what we had before—the way things have been."

"I know."

"I guess I'm having a difficult time adjusting." She looked at the clock and sighed harshly again. "_And _I have to go to work."

He glanced at the nightstand. How on earth did time speed by so quickly when they were together? They never had enough time anymore. After the accident, they'd both gotten used to her lighter hours. But now that her body was completely healed, it was as if she felt guilty and was trying to make up for all the lost work time. And that made him feel more useless than ever. Work. The thought was like a dash of cold water to his face.

"I thought I'd wander down to the employment office later, check the boards," he murmured

She turned, half-way to the bathroom. "Really?"

"It's spring. If nothing else, I could hire myself out to one of those yard service companies. They always need help, and lots of them pay under the table."

She frowned. "You have so much more to offer than that!"

He shrugged. "A job's a job. I'm able-bodied. There are a lot of things I can do. I just can't live off of you and JT forever. It bites. Besides, you got me a fake ID before; you can get me one again, yeah? Catherine, it doesn't matter what I do. I just need to do _something_. There aren't a lot of job listings for 'beast trackers.'"

She slipped on her robe, the silky wrap molding itself to her curves. He couldn't stop his eyes from make a quick perusal.

"I thought we made a good team," she said, running her hands up his arms. "Tess and I will always need your help."

He tilted his head at her. _Still charity_.

His unspoken message was received. "Okay. Well, whatever you find is fine with me. In the meantime, we can make do on my salary. Just . . . don't sell yourself short."

"I won't." He stepped into his pants. "By the way, we're going out to dinner tonight, so let me know if you're going to be late."

She turned on her way into the bathroom. "What's the occasion?"

"Just a little get-together . . . with Tori and Blaise."

Catherine cringed.

"They want to show us their new place."

"I don't supposed I could claim—"

"No excuses. She's been bugging me for weeks. Come on, aren't you curious?"

"It's like the Princess and the Pauper. Yes, okay. I'm a tiny bit curious, I admit. I'll go. But watch for my cues if I need to make it an early night."

"I'm extremely attuned to all of your cues, believe me."

* * *

The brownstone was a modern version of the classic rowhouse, but neat and tidy and in a more moderately priced section of the city. That was Catherine's first surprise. Tori still had access to her parent's fortune, ill-gotten though some of it was through her father's reputation, but so far she'd declined the lavish lifestyle she'd been accustomed to growing up.

"We're still picking out furniture, so it looks a little sparse—" Tori began.

"I'm a fan of sparse, actually," Blaise put in, greeting them at the door with a hand shake and his trademark smile. "Welcome to our humble abode."

"Beats an unheated warehouse, eh?" Vincent ribbed him.

"Especially one that was so shoddily built," Blaise answered, referring to the abandoned building he'd occupied before terrorists collapsed it nearly on top of him. Despite being blind and homeless, the experience hadn't squashed his good humor, at least. And it had put him in the path of Tori, who'd saved his life that night. Now, the two were inseparable. Vincent had a lot of misgivings about the two of them together. She'd shunned his attempts to reason with her. But as with Catherine, Blaise had come to understand Tori's dual nature and accept it, despite the risks. He had to admire the guy. It didn't hurt that he was the extreme opposite, personality-wise, of Tori, who oozed anything but charm most of the time.

Catherine managed to remain calm and pleasant all the way through dinner, but he knew the effort that took. He made excuses for them before the evening got too long.

* * *

"Okay, that was kind of fun, kind of not, and strangely awkward," Catherine mused as she stepped down to the curb still shaking her head as they headed toward her car.

"Thank you for being a good sport about it."

"I'm glad to see Tori and Blaise are happy—truly I am, but—"

"—you felt like an intruder?"

"More like the second left foot."

"Catherine, Tori's trying—"

"Tell me about it."

"I _meant_, she . . . she really wants you to like her, to be her friend, you know? She doesn't have many women friends."

"And _I'm_ her first choice?"

He shrugged. "She has to start somewhere. And you know her—the important parts, anyway. You're the logical choice."

Catherine rolled her eyes to that and sighed.

"Blaise is a good influence on her, I think," Vincent added.

"On that I completely agree. And . . . I am also trying."

"Thank you. But?"

Catherine fidgeted. "She's growing on me. Okay, before, I felt like she was my rival—for you—and I hated that feeling."

"You never had anything to be jealous about."

"I realize that. But now it's like she's . . . living the life I want to have with you. I'm . . . envious. Why should they have it so easy?"

"What do you mean? What do they have that we can't?"

She stared at him. "Vincent, we've been through this before—"

"—in a different life." He stopped walking. "Catherine, we've never talked about it since my kidnapping—since my change. Our situation is completely different now. Not perfect, but better, yeah?"

She put a hand to the side of his face, the now scar-less side. "Definitely better, yeah," she mimicked the unique way he said it, and reached up to touch his lips with hers.

He captured her lips for a few seconds before replying. "Who's to say we can't start to move forward now, ourselves? Baby steps—"

"It's the 'baby' part that has me terrified, actually. For both of them. Vincent, I know she wants to have a family, but frankly, it gives me nightmares."

"For her or for you?"

She simply looked at him.

"Okay, you are not Tori. Thank God. That's why we're being careful. And what happens with her—with them—won't be the same for us. Let's just wait and watch. We don't even know if it's possible for her to conceive. Until then, let's not worry."

Catherine frowned, but let it go. There was no sense arguing about it. After Vincent told her Tori and Blaise were going to try to have a family, they'd argued long and hard about whether or not they had a right to intervene. She'd obviously lost. A part of her was curious; the other part terrified. She closed off the thought. Vincent was right. That was a bridge they'd all cross when—and if— they came to it, and not before. "Well, I did enjoy hearing the news that Blaise has a job. Teaching other blind people life management skills is the perfect fit for him."

Instead of smiling, Vincent shrugged uncomfortably.

"What?"

"I don't know—seems like everyone is gainfully employed, now, except for me. With things having calmed down and you back to work, I need something to do to keep me occupied, to be useful. It's been a long time since I held down a real job."

"You didn't find anything that sounded promising at the employment office today? What about something in the medical field?"

"I don't know. There are a lot of hurdles, not the least of which is getting all my certifications back. I'd almost rather do something completely different. I don't know if I can explain it but, as much as I loved being a doctor, there's a part of me that wants to get as far away from medicine and medical tests as possible. I've had my fill."

"From the wrong end of things. I understand that."

"I mean, I'll always be a doctor at heart, but practicing medicine again . . . I guess I'm afraid. Is that stupid?"

"No. Not at all. You'll find something, don't worry. We just have to keep looking." She tugged his collar up around his ears. It was still quite nippy at night. "In the meantime, I'm happy to have you help me with my cases. If I could get you a paycheck for it, you know I would."

He wrapped a long arm around her.

* * *

After seeing Catherine off for the precinct the next morning, Vincent decided to go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head and some ideas would come his way. God knew he had trouble thinking whenever she was near! The weak spring sun was making a hazy appearance, thank goodness. The city was finally coming out of the fog of winter. The air was still cool, but the trees had started budding with the last week of milder temps. It didn't take long, apparently, for nature to feel the hope of warmer weather ahead. If only he felt the same.

Vincent almost didn't see the kid before he ran into him.

"Mister, can you help me?"

A boy of about ten years old blocked his path, a paper with a picture on it held out tightly in his hand. The boy's straight blond hair reminded him of Milo, the boy from Alex's clinic, and he smiled as he bent toward him. "What can I help you with?"

The boy shoved the page into his hand. "My grandpa. Have you seen him? He's missing."

Vincent glanced at the boy, then at the paper. It had a scanned image of an elderly man, probably well into his eighties. Must be a great-grandpa to the boy. Below the picture was a name: James Marshall Ridkin. "What happened to him?"

The boy's eyes started to tear up but he fought it. "He went for a walk yesterday afternoon and never came back. He's supposed to always go with someone, but he gets impatient sometimes. I usually meet him after school, but I had baseball practice and couldn't make it. He left without me. I've been passing these out all morning, but nobody's seen him. And it's all my fault!"

"Hey." Vincent crouched down to the boy's level. "I'm sure he's fine. Just probably lost and waiting it out some place safe."

"He _always _gets lost. That's why I have to go with him!"

Alzheimer's, Vincent guessed—a common dilemma for families with elderly relatives. He studied the photograph, committing it to memory. "Does he live around here?"

The boy nodded. "About a block and a half that way—The Langendorf Apartments. I live three blocks that way," he pointed in the opposite direction.

There were busy streets, tall buildings and several common areas in between. Vincent knew the area well. "Can I keep this?" The boy appeared to have several copies.

"Sure."

Vincent ruffled the child's head and stood. "I'll keep my eye out for him, okay? Is this your number?" He pointed to the phone number at the bottom of the page.

"That's my Mom's cell. She won't let me have my own phone yet," the boy said, somewhat disgruntled. "My name is James, too, by the way."

"Well, James, I'll see what I can do, okay?" Vincent turned to leave when a thought occurred to him. "Shouldn't you be in school right now?"

The boy looked up at him helplessly. "Not until I find him!"

That did it. Poor little mite. Vincent waited until James was distracted with another pedestrian, then headed around the corner to the HUD low-rent apartment building for seniors. If he could pick up the man's trail there . . . .

* * *

"Cat. You gotta see this."

Catherine looked up wearily from a stack of papers. All cold cases. Perhaps she's been a little _too _enthusiastic about jumping right back into things. The pile was daunting. A distraction was welcome.

Tess drew her partner into the main hall where a TV screen was set to a local news station. Vincent's face filled up the screen.

Catherine's first instinct was fear; then she remembered Muirfield and Bob Reynolds' threats no longer existed. That didn't mean it was good.

An elderly gentleman and a young boy were on the screen being interviewed with Vincent.

"He found a missing person, apparently," Tess explained, "—the little boy's grandfather. He has dementia or something and had wandered away from his apartment complex yesterday. Vincent tracked him to a subway station ten blocks away, then to a mini-mart. The man had somehow wedged himself behind a stack of used cardboard boxes in the alley last night—probably trying to stay warm—and had fallen asleep. By the time they found him the poor man was frozen, dehydrated, and hungry, but alive. Had it not been for Vincent, they say, he likely would have succumbed to the freezing temperatures. Instead, grandpa and grandson have been happily reunited."

Cat heard Tess's words but her eyes were filled with Vincent's face and the beautiful smile he was wearing. _Oh, God_. How easily that man could turn her heart inside out! What a lovely thing for him to do, too, and so like him.

"He's a hero. _Again_." Tess grinned at her. "Maybe he found his new calling."

"What? Tracking lost elderly people?"

Tess shrugged. "Missing persons. Cat, think about it. It's perfect. You said Vincent wanted to find meaningful work. Well . . . ."

Yes, he did. And perfect it was. More than that—it was all over the news. James' grandfather, a veteran, just so happened to be one of the last survivors of Pearl Harbor and quite a celebrity in his own right.

* * *

By the time she got off work, she was anxious to hear all the details from the man himself. Vincent greeted her at her door with a huge smile.

"Look at you – all heroic and all."

He shrugged, ever uncomfortable with the mantle of hero. He helped her off with her coat. "It felt good."

Catherine turned in his arms. "I'm glad you got recognition for doing something like that, even if you declined to give your name. It's about time. The citizens of New York City need to know there is a hero in their midst. You do good deeds for people every day."

He kissed her. "I don't know about that, but . . . it got me thinking."

"Ah. Now you have me worried."

He grinned and his dimples deepened. "What if I were to start some sort of investigations agency? You know, 'You Lack 'em, I Track 'em' . . . ?"

"Is that your motto? Um, corny, but oddly to the point."

"Better than 'They Lose Their Route, I Sniff 'em Out'?"

She laughed. "Hmmm. You might want to keep working on that."

"But what do you think?" He snuggled her close, cajoling her.

Her lips automatically went to his. "Well, that would certainly put your tracking abilities to good use—"

"Yes."

"—as long as it doesn't call too much attention to your 'supernatural' skills. You may have to be creative in how you explain your methods."

"A good detective never divulges his secrets."

"This is true." She let him lead her into the kitchen. "Speaking of sniffing, something smells delicious."

Vincent sat her at the dining table and poured her a glass of wine before setting the dish before her. "It smells better than it looks. I think it's me who needs to take the cooking classes," he said, taking his own seat. "But I believe it's edible."

"You make up for it in effort, believe me. Have I told you lately that you're the best boyfriend ever?"

"Mmm." He kissed her again. "You might re-think that after you've eaten."

"Never. And it's nice that you haven't let celebrity go to your head."

_Like that would ever happen_. His cell phone buzzed.

"JT?"

"No." Vincent frowned at the unfamiliar number—for the New York Times.

Not surprisingly, the heart-warming story of James Ridkin's rescue had been picked up by several news agencies. Catherine found out just how many later that evening when Heather called.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry it has taken me so long to post. Here you go..._

**Chapter 2**

Catherine reached out blindly in the dark for her cell phone on the night stand. She had to blink once to read the display. Heather. "Hey, Sis. What's up?"

"Just thinking of you," Heather said, her voice always cheerful, even over the phone. "I didn't wake you did I? Sometimes I forget my schedule's much later than yours."

"No. No, I'm fine. Just turned in, actually." She flinched at the lie, but this was Heather.

"How's the foot?"

"The foot's good. You'll be happy to know I've even been dancing on it recently."

"Really? Oh, I'm so glad! Dancing, huh? Bet I know who with."

"You'd bet right." Catherine could hear her sister smile.

"Guess it's nice to have a boyfriend who's also a doctor."

"Convenient, yes—and no. They can also be a little pig-headed about you taking their advice to heart. I'm afraid I don't make the best patient. It's not a word that best describes me. What's up? Because we've spoken a lot recently and I know you didn't call just to ask about my foot."

"I didn't? Oh. Well, I guess I was still feeling bad about leaving you before you were completely recovered, and seeing Vincent on the news tonight made me think—"

"You saw Vincent on the news? In _Miami?_"

"The national news, yep. Haven't you seen it? They didn't give his name, but I recognized him right away. He found that little boy's great-grandpa. So sweet. See, Cat. You said he was a good guy, and you were right."

She had indeed. Heather hadn't made any more mention of it since, though, and Catherine assumed she'd forgotten all about him. Apparently not. That Vincent was on the national news was also a surprise—an uncomfortable one—although there was little, if any, risk of his secret being discovered anymore. Still.

"I'm glad that you're finally coming around to him. It means a lot."

"It makes me more comfortable about living so far away—that you have someone in your life. But you two are there and I'm way down here. Cat, you're all the family I have now."

"Heather, that will never change. And we'll work out this distance thing, don't worry. But it sounds like you're regretting your move to Miami."

"Oh no. Of course not. I love it here. Really. But a person can only take so many sunny days and blue skies, you know?"

Catherine laughed. "No. I don't know, and thanks for that little dig. I'm still wearing flannel and wool scarves. Wait. Are you having boy problems again? Because that usually signals changes coming."

"Nothing I'm ready to talk about yet." Heather sighed. "But I don't suppose you can get away from work anytime soon for a visit?"

Yep. She guessed right. "Oh Heath, I wish I could. Truly. I miss you, too. But I'm just getting back into work. I feel like I need to prove myself all over again. It hasn't been easy."

"I'm sorry."

"Maybe later in the summer I can take some time off again and come for a visit."

"With Vincent?"

Catherine sucked in a breath. "Would you . . . want that?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm sure he'd like to come down, too. Let's plan on it."

Her sister's change of heart toward Vincent felt amazingly good. No need to dash it unnecessarily. "Well, I'll mention it to him and we'll see. No promises."

"Okay. That's all I can hope for, I guess. Well, it's late. I suppose I better let you go. Take care. Bye for now."

"Bye, Sis."

Catherine disconnected the call, laid her cell phone back on the night stand, and rolled onto her back. While there were many advantages to having Heather far away, she missed that connection, too. And now that her sister had accepted Vincent in her life, it would be nice to try to normalize relationships again. This time, hopefully, with less disastrous results.

Before switching off the light, she smoothed her hand across the empty side of the bed. Vincent had taken to sleeping at the club again most week nights. He said it was to make sure she got a good night's rest, but she figured it was more than that. Doctor boyfriend dilemma, indeed. Their alternative methods of birth control were wearing on them both, and they'd argued more than a few times about it lately. She wanted to feel angry about it, but she knew he was only protecting her. And besides, he more than made up for any lack during the times they were together.

The news that Heather would like them both to come for a visit made her smile. She couldn't wait to tell Vincent the news.

* * *

Vincent left the brownstone in a frustrated mood. He'd stopped by at Tori's request but hadn't liked finding Blaise gone when he arrived, although she'd stopped having a negative effect on him some time ago. Even less had he liked the conversation she'd hit him with. With all the effort he and Catherine were going to trying _not _to have a child, it stung a little to hear how eager Tori and Blaise were to have one. He'd told her the risks, as much as he knew them. It was all he could do. They had to go into it with eyes wide open.

Tori was impulsive, though. What if she regretted her decision later? While a solid relationship with Blaise had definitely anchored her, it could change on a dime. There were still moments she seemed too immature to become a partner—much less a parent—and who knew what kind of child they would have?

A breeze blew a chill up the back of his neck and he flipped his collar up higher. Nothing more he could do at this point. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Just thinking about it made him want to see Catherine. She was currently at work, but they'd have a little talk when she got home. He didn't think she'd be too pleased with this upping of the timetable. And the stakes.

* * *

"Tori and Blaise want to start a _family_? Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"They only spoke about it in general terms when we had dinner with them, Tess. I thought it was way off into the future. Apparently, not, according to what she just told Vincent."

Tess shuddered. "And Vincent is okay with this? I thought you two had decided—"

"We did. For now. But we're not talking about _us_, we're talking about Tori. And Blaise."

Tess rubbed her temple. "That's what has me worried. I feel a serious headache coming on now. I was hoping the whole Tori issue had gone away now that she and Blaise had settled into domestic bliss. This puts a whole new spin on it."

"You're not the only one with a headache. We just need to monitor the situation, that's all."

"Right. And stay armed to the teeth."

Catherine groaned. That wasn't too far off the mark.

* * *

Catherine was just about to turn in for the night when her cell phone rang. Heather, again. She frowned. Something must have happened with her latest beau. Good-bye extra sleep time. She sighed then mentally put a smile on her face before picking up. "Heather?"

"Cat, I need your help."

At her sister's uncharacteristic tone, Catherine sat up in bed. "What's wrong?"

"This is an emergency."

"What's happened? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. It's Jason."

"Jason Hunter? Heath, I told you, we—"

"His daughter is missing."

Catherine sucked in a breath. "Arielle?" Visions of the sweet, blue-eyed eight-year-old she'd met on her last visit to Miami flooded her mind. "W-what do you mean, 'missing'?"

"His ex-wife picked her up from school yesterday and was supposed to drop her off with him. It's his weekend to have her. But they never showed and Kendra can't be reached."

Catherine sighed heavily. Unfortunately, in her line of work, scenarios like this were all too common. "As bad as I feel for Jason, . . . I hate to say this, Heather, but it sounds like a domestic dispute between him and Kendra."

"That's just it, Cat. It's not."

"How do you know that?"

"Jason said Kendra's not like that at all. And they're on friendly terms—"

"—which can change on the drop of a hat—"

"But they had dinner together just last week, he told me."

That didn't mean problems weren't still possible. Catherine could hear the desperation in her sister's voice. She was always so empathetic. She was a great one to have as a friend, but she'd make a lousy cop. A picture of Arielle's inquisitive blue eyes gave her a pang of worry. She'd been a detective too long not to realize the way these things usually worked out, and the child was always caught in between.

"Kendra's phone is off, and her father says she never does that."

Catherine had no real knowledge of Kendra or her family, other than that the McGuires were filthy rich, according to Jason, so she couldn't confirm. "As bad as I feel, there's really nothing I can do from here. I'm sure the local authorities are doing all they can."

"Actually, I was hoping that Vincent—"

"Vincent?"

"Cat . . . he found that little boy's great-grandfather just like that—"

"Heather, that was a totally different situation."

"But everyone said how amazing it was that he found him. I just thought—"

"This is not the kind of thing Vincent can be involved in."

"Are you sure? Because I thought you said he was thinking of doing that kind of work full time now."

"Yes, but . . . he's up here, and Miami is more than a thousand miles away."

"I just thought—I thought . . . you both could come down?"

"Oh, Heath, as much as I'd like to, I just can't get away. I haven't been back full-time very long, and—"

"I was just hoping. Maybe Kendra's father could pull some strings. He's, like, crazy rich. Jason says he's very well connected—with the FBI, among other things."

Interesting. Another FBI link she hadn't been expecting. Sounds like Kendra's father had enough resources of his own. They didn't really need her or Vincent's help.

"Look. I'll call Jason, see if there's anything I can do, but I doubt it. In the meantime, keep me up-to-date with the situation. I can't promise anything with Vincent, but . . . I'll look into it from here, see what I can find out."

"Thanks, Sis!"

* * *

"Let's go."

"Vincent, it's not that simple."

Catherine sat across from him at the breakfast table. He'd shown up with morning coffee at her bedroom window again. She'd quickly explained the situation and the conversation she'd had with Jason the night before after Heather's call.

"Why not? The sooner I get down there, the better chance I have of picking up a trail."

"There's a lot more to consider than that. And I just got back to work. I can't leave right now."

"Catherine, I've flown before. It's been a few years, but I _can _do this myself."

"By yourself?"

"I'd rather do it with you, of course, but—talk to Gabe. Maybe he can pull some strings. The girl's father has FBI connections. Surely Gabe can come up with some reason to involve you in the case. We'll go down together, find them both, put your mind at ease, and then . . . spend a day or two enjoying the sun and surf, yeah?"

"Oh, now I see why you're so anxious to go down there. You want to check out the beach babes."

He shook his head. "Silly rabbit. You have absolutely no idea how crazy I am about you. I only have eyes for one woman. But it wouldn't hurt for us to have a little vacation time away."

She smiled at the thought, and her heart did that little jump again at the look in his eyes. The man had no idea the power he had over her. "Well, you may be able to write this off as a business expense, but I doubt I can. I have to admit, though, I'm worried. According to Jason, there's been no ransom note or anything yet, and they found Kendra's car abandoned on an isolated road."

Vincent clamped his jaw together at the mention of Jason. He knew he had no reason to feel threatened by the man, but it hadn't been that long since Catherine had made her choice between the two of them. He pushed that out of his mind and focused on the problem at hand. "If Kendra and Arielle are alive, I can find them." He could find them either way, but he wasn't about to say that.

"You know, ever since Heather mentioned Kendra's father, I can't help thinking he's involved somehow."

"The little girl's grandfather?" Vincent frowned.

"Richard McGuire, yes. I don't mean that I think he did it. But perhaps someone wants something from him."

"Money."

She nodded. "But without a ransom note, I don't know what to think."

"Get Tess and JT to start digging up information on him. Then get on the phone to Gabe. I'll start packing. We're going to Miami."

Catherine started to head for her phone then turned back around. "Vincent, are you sure you're okay with this? Helping Jason? I mean, we—"

He caressed her face. "Sweetheart, if he's someone you care about, then he's a good guy. And he's a friend of yours who's in trouble. I want to help."

"Thank you."

* * *

"You're going to Miami? To help Catherine's old boyfriend?"

Vincent stopped pacing in front of his friend. "JT, it isn't like that. His little girl is missing, along with his ex-wife."

"So? Catherine almost left you for him. And isn't he a security guy? Why does he need you?"

"Look, the guy didn't have his wife and daughter kidnapped just so he could use it as an excuse to get Catherine back down there. This is a serious situation."

"We have a serious situation right here!"

"What?"

"Tori and Blaise!"

Vincent let out a breath. "They're fine. They're like . . . newlyweds."

"Yes, but you said they're trying to have a—" JT lowered his voice, "—beast baby! Who knows what could happen!"

Vincent laughed. Such a drama queen. "JT, they're in love. And it's not like she's going to have a baby before we get back! Tori's not even pregnant yet."

"That we _know _of."

"Relax. I'm sure we'll be the first to know. Besides, these things take time—at least nine months. We aren't planning on being gone that long. I'm hoping to wrap this up in a couple of days."

"Who knows what could happen with those two? I'm already having visions of an alien fist bursting through her belly and—"

"Calm down. Having babies is a normal process. I'm sure Tori and Blaise will settle into family life as naturally as anyone else. They'll be fine. You'll be fine. I promise we won't be gone long." He sat on the sofa opposite his friend. "I need to do this. A little girl is missing—someone Catherine knows and has a fondness for. If I don't go and something happens to her, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. If nothing else, I need to show Catherine I'm not a jealous lover."

"So what if you are? She'll get over it."

"This is what I am now, JT – a person who helps."

JT just shook his head. "Always the damn hero. Go. I'm tired of looking at your ugly mug anyway. You gonna get paid for this, by the way?"

Vincent laughed. JT was such a softy at heart. "We'll see."

* * *

Catherine breathed a big sigh of relief when they finally boarded the plane. It was one thing to produce a fake ID. It was another thing entirely to lie to security people and get away with it. She pushed the thought away and concentrated on the next part of the plan.

"Mind if I have the window seat?" Vincent asked her, a shy question in his eyes.

"No, not at all." She stepped back and let him climb into the row ahead of her.

"I haven't been on a plane in years."

She smiled as he settled into his seat. "You're like a kid in a candy store, aren't you? You're having entirely too much fun."

He shrugged. "What's not to love about escaping the cold of New York City and flying to the Sunshine State with the woman I love at my side?"

"A little girl who's lost and probably very afraid? Vincent, I'm so worried. I thought we'd have heard something by now. Arielle's a smart little girl. Even if she's with her mom somewhere, she must be confused and frightened."

"Unless they're just taking an unexpected vacation somewhere."

"They found the car abandoned on the edge of the Everglades. Unless they were walking to their destination, it doesn't sound like a vacation to me."

That was for sure. Something was terribly wrong. He saw the worry in her eyes. "Hey," he cradled her face with his large hand. "We'll find her; we'll find both of them."

"Jason must be frantic."

"I'll find Arielle for him. And for you."

* * *

"Catherine, thank you for coming. And Vincent. I don't know how to thank you."

Jason Hunter had a car waiting for them at the terminal.

"Well, don't thank us yet. We haven't done anything."

"It feels good just knowing you're here."

Vincent caught the look he gave Catherine and tamped down the little twinge of jealousy that produced.

"What do you need of me?" Jason asked.

"Uh, just a place to work, access to a computer, to start," Catherine answered.

"You got it. We've set up a base, of sorts, at Indian Creek. That's where Kendra's family's residence is."

"Her father, Richard McGuire?"

"That's right. They have a room for you. We'll head directly there."

Catherine wondered how he must feel inviting Vincent into his personal life like this – and offering them a bedroom. "Is that where Kendra has been living?"

"Yes. She's recently moved back to the mansion. Her mother wanted her closer to home."

Catherine frowned at that. Kendra was no doubt in her early thirties. It seemed an odd thing. Jason must have picked up on her skepticism.

"You'll understand once you get there," was all he said.

* * *

The mansion spread out along a grassy spit of land, around which curled beautiful blue water.

Both Catherine and Vincent tried not to gape at the opulent surroundings. "When you said old money, I pictured something a lot more modest than this. This guy's a major player," Vincent murmured under his breath as they followed Jason up the drive toward the sprawling home.

"According to Tess, McGuire's got properties all over Miami and along the Eastern seaboard and Bahamas. Made his money in real-estate, but he's branched out into just about everything now."

"I can imagine. Makes him a pretty big target."

"That's what I'm thinking."

As Jason led them through the house, they passed several gigantic oil paintings on the wall. No prints here—only old masters. Catherine caught Vincent's eye.

"I'll introduce you to the McGuires. They're really a very nice couple."

"Can you take me to Arielle's room?" Vincent piped up.

Jason turned, surprised.

"He's not real good with the social niceties. Wants to get right at it," Catherine explained.

Jason blew out a breath. "I'm all for that. But her room?"

"A place with her belongings, clothing."

Jason looked at Catherine.

"Trust him," she said. "He knows what he's doing."

"Uh, sure. This way."

"Is the school nearby? I'd also like to see the car."

"Of course. Here's Arielle's room. The car is the cream-colored sedan in the drive."

Jason opened the door to the child's room. Vincent stepped into the center of it and closed his eyes in concentration.

"What's he doing?" Jason asked in a hushed voice. "It's not some kind of psychic thing, is it?"

"What he's specially trained to do—track. And no, he's not psychic." Catherine took Jason's arm and pulled him back out. "Best to just leave him to it. Why don't you take me to your father."

They walked back down the hall. Jason turned to her. "Can he really find them?"

Catherine saw the anguish in his eyes. It immediately ruled him out as a suspect in her mind, even though he probably had not been ruled out yet by the local authorities. Her intuition was just that, but she knew it was true. Had Vincent sensed anything to the contrary, he would have alerted her. "If anyone can, it's Vincent."

Vincent came out before they'd made it to the living room. "Take me to where the car was found."

After making quick introductions to the McGuires and local deputy at the house, the three of them headed back outside.

"We should take two cars."

When Jason looked like he wanted to argue, Catherine stepped in. "You'll have to return home, Jason, in case a ransom call comes in. This way we can split up."

He reluctantly agreed and led them out of town and miles away to the end of a long, narrow road.

"We were lucky it was spotted," Jason explained, after they parked at the spot and got out. "A fisherman came across it quite by accident."

"Does Kendra know someone out here?" Catherine asked. The road was isolated and little used, from the looks of it.

Jason shook his head. "Not that I know of. The car was full of gas. There isn't a house in sight. There was no sign of a struggle or forced entry. It just doesn't make sense. And there are alligators in this area. I can't imagine why they would leave the car. The thought of both of them being out here alone—at night . . . well, I don't mind telling you, it gives me the chills."

Catherine was beginning to feel the same.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - Sorry it took me so long to post. Was on vacation and this section was complex. Here you go..._

**Chapter 3**

Catherine's phone buzzed. "It's Heather." She stepped away from the two men. "Yes. I'm here—with Jason. We're already at work. Yeah, since time is of the essence, I'll have to call you later with an update, but we'll stay in touch. Don't worry. Of course. 'Kay, Sis. Bye."

Jason was talking when she disconnected, but it was clear Vincent was distracted. She needed to send Jason on his way so they could get to work.

"Hey." She got Vincent's attention. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Jason, we're going to do some sniffing around here. It may take a while. Go ahead back to the mansion. We'll call if we find anything."

Jason looked surprised. "The cops have been all over this area and the car, already. They said it was a dead end."

"Vincent may be able to find clues they didn't."

"Oh. Okay. You sure you don't need my help? I'm not real familiar with this area, but I know there are a hundred tributaries that fan out from here. It's very easy to get lost."

_But only one trail to follow_, little did he understand. "We'll be fine. Trust me. Vincent has a . . . nose for direction like you wouldn't believe. It could take some time, so . . ."

"Right. Well, wait." He rounded his car and opened the trunk. "At least take these." He handed her a couple sets of tall-sided boots. You don't need to worry about alligators. They will ignore you. The more serious threat is snakes. Keep an eye out. These will protect your feet. The smaller pair was Kendra's. I hope they fit." Along with the boots, he handed her a flare, first aid kit, compass, and a package of mosquito netting, as well. "Just in case."

"Thanks, Jason."

He sighed. "I'd really feel better if we stayed together." Seeing she wasn't going to budge, he finally nodded and closed the trunk. "Uh, listen. Cell service is spotty out here—"

"Don't worry," Catherine reassured him again. "Really. I'm in good hands." She looked toward the tall, very capable man pacing impatiently a little ways away. "You just keep an eye on things at the house."

Jason looked over at Vincent. Tall, strong, and no doubt capable. "Okay."

She could see he was reluctant to leave them, but also torn. "It's going to be all right. We'll see you back there."

"Hopefully with good news."

"Yes." She watched and waited until he drove away and the car turned out of sight.

"Catherine, I can move much faster alone. You should take the other car and return to the house, too."

Catherine smiled at the fact that Vincent hadn't suggested she go with Jason. She was about to argue when her phone buzzed again. She held up a hand to tell him to wait. "It's JT." She pressed the button. "Hi, JT. Do you have something? Because Vincent's about to head out. He's already picked up a trail."

"Houston, we have a problem."

"What is it?"

"Tori and Blaise just stopped by. Guess what? She's already _pregnant_. Couldn't wait to share the good news. They're practically giddy about it."

Catherine closed her eyes. _Great. Just what they needed_. Vincent heard the conversation without her repeating it and shrugged to say there's nothing they can do about it now. He was impatient to get moving. She nodded to him to head out, and followed after him, the phone still to her ear. "Okay. Well, nothing we can do about it now. We'll deal with that when we get home."

"From the way she's acting, you'd think she's the first woman to ever get pregnant," JT added disgustedly. "Thinks she's on her way to becoming the matriarch of a new race."

Catherine cringed and stepped over a log. "In a way she is, I suppose. Think of it this way, JT. At least she's happy. Look, Vincent says don't worry. We'll be home as soon as we can. I gotta go. Call me if you or Tess finds out anything out that will be helpful this case. Cell phone service is unreliable where we are, so call the McGuires and leave a message if you need to. I'll call you when I get back there, if not before. Bye."

She had to run to catch up.

* * *

"So, what are we going to do, just sit around and watch this happen?" Tess shuddered at the thought and pulled out the seat next to JT and his computers. The club was becoming a second home of sorts, these days. "Mind if I . . .?"

"Go ahead. Here." JT turned on the monitor in front of her and logged in so she could get onto the web. It had taken him a while to get used to letting another person into his space—and his computer was a very personal space to him—but with Tess on board, in every way, it made no sense to shut her out. Besides, she was decent company. Not that he'd ever admit that to her. They were still feeling their way around their relationship. And he was as skittish as she.

"Nothing we can do about it at this point." He shrugged, uncomfortable with the whole idea of beast babies and especially a 'Momma Beastie' like Tori Windsor. "Let's just get Cat and Vincent back home. The sooner the better."

"Good plan. So, I found out that Richard McGuire, Kendra's father, has been a busy beaver this year. He makes real estate deals like they're trading cards," Tess offered, turning one of the screens toward her and typing into it like she lived there.

"People with money tend to make more money," JT murmured, unimpressed.

"Right. But they also make _enemies_."

JT looked up.

"He just made a deal for an undeveloped piece of land—ocean front—that had been in the works for a while with this man," she turned her screen to show him a photograph. "Louis Dauphinais, a French businessman he's had frequent dealings with."

"Okay. So? Doesn't sound sinister."

"Maybe not," Tess said. "Except that McGuire cut Dauphinais out of the deal at the last second, and bought the property outright."

"You mean, he paid cash?"

"He paid cash. That's not the way most of these guys operate, although both men have enough assets to liquefy and come up with a boat load of cash at any time."

"So, this French dude . . . he's angry? What's so special about that stretch of coast line?"

"Maybe. That's just it. It looks like a crappy piece of land. Too rocky to develop—at least without a lot of work—and a little too far off the beaten track. Yet both men were apparently in a fierce competition for it. It's not much, but the only thing I have on McGuire so far."

JT looked thoughtful. "So, what? You think this Dauphinais, or however you say it, is so mad about not getting this piece of crappy land that he kidnapped McGuire's daughter and granddaughter to get it?"

"I don't know. It's just a working theory." Tess appeared as frustrated as he.

"Maybe we should try to figure out what's so special about that piece of coastline."

"And find out more about Dauphinais. I'll call Gabe." Tess went back to her keyboard and JT did the same. Their methods may be different, but both eventually got results.

* * *

Richard McGuire sat in front of his heavy mahogany desk puffing on a cigar. It was a terrible habit, and one he rarely indulged in any more since his wife disapproved and had broken him of the habit when Kendra was born. But tonight he needed it. Even he had expected a ransom note of some kind by now. That it hadn't come was very, very troubling. The local police chief suggested the girls had been taken because someone wanted money from him and he was probably right. He'd been threatened before—it came with the territory and title of land mogul. But tonight he was scared to death for his little girl and his beautiful and only grandchild.

A brief rap on the door was followed by the twist of the door knob, and in walked his old friend and sometimes business partner, Louis Dauphinais—the man he'd recently screwed out of a deal. He'd been in the area when word of the alleged kidnappings had been announced on the evening news, much as Richard had tried to prevent it. Now, Louis was there offering his condolences and help, and he couldn't exactly turn the man away, much as he'd like to.

He and Louis had had many dealings together over the years, but none as bitter as the recent land acquisition Richard had made-a coastal property Louis had wanted for his very own. Why, he didn't know. It hadn't made sense. Richard wanted to develop it; Louis didn't. With a little money, and they both had it to spare, it could be turned into a prime tourist spot, despite its isolation and distance from the nearest town. But Louis had wanted it just for himself. Instead of agreeing to a partnership, he'd undercut the Frenchman. Richard wasn't happy to be facing him now. He was having a difficult enough time focusing on anything other than his missing family.

Louis let himself into the room as if he owned it, the dratted man. Richard didn't dislike foreigners, but this particular man wasn't your typical foreign investor. Louis' appetites ran toward the bizarre, the macabre. He didn't know why Louis wanted that property so badly, but it had to be for some purpose related to his own perverted tastes. Who knew? He lifted his head and waved him in. There was nothing else to be done. Richard's wife, Ellen, had no doubt already offered him their hospitality.

"Louis."

Louis carried his suit jacket over his shoulder and walked easily to the most comfortable chair in the room and took a seat facing him. "Oh, Richard, Richard, Richard. What have you done?"

Had Louis been reading his thoughts? For as much as he didn't want to admit it, no doubt the person behind this cruelest of all jokes was after him for some assumed misuse of power. He only had to figure out which one, and there were many. It didn't matter. Whatever they wanted, they could have. He just wanted his daughter and granddaughter back.

"I don't have time to entertain you, Louis. As you can see, we're in panic mode right now trying to find Kendra and Arielle."

"Who have you ticked off now? Just give them what they want and get it over with. You have enough money. Oh, wait. Perhaps not—not since you _stole _that property out from underneath me and paid for it with cash. You must have had to liquidate several other properties to raise that kind of funds."

Richard looked at him askance. "It was the only way they'd take the deal. I know you wanted it, Louis. I'm sorry, but the land was just too valuable to let you waste it. It was a business decision. That's all."

Louis flipped back his long-ish hair with that arrogant and annoying way he had that said, 'you're beneath me but I'm tolerating you anyway because I'm the bigger man.' _So he thinks!_

"I don't choose projects willy nilly, Richard. That piece of land was exceedingly valuable to me."

"For what?"

"You know I'm never without my reasons, but they aren't your concern."

"Well, whatever they are, you'll have to find another. It's my land now and I plan to develop it. Ellen liked the property and wants a rustic bungalow development there. Thinks it has great appeal. I happen to agree."

Louis sighed. "You don't get it, do you? You're as rich as Croesus, but more money is all you ever want. There are more important things in life, my dear fellow. More important things."

Richard couldn't think of any, unless he meant family, in which case, yes. There were. But he didn't think his friend meant that. Louis had no family, and he was as dedicated to his money as Richard was to his. But perhaps to Louis, who was a number of years his senior, it was more of a game. Certainly felt that way at times.

Richard blew out a long stream of smoke. "If you're here to help, then help. Put that fancy helicopter you ride around in to good use." Not that he ever would. Louis only helped Louis. "Otherwise, I need space to think."

"Ah, a hint. Well, I'll leave you to your pondering then, Richard, but I'll be nearby if you 'think' of anything."

As Louis stepped out of the study and closed the door, he pressed a button on his cell.

* * *

Catherine stopped and took a swig of water from the bottle she'd brought along. The gauge on the car had registered only 75 degrees, but stalking through lush vegetation for an hour made it seem ten times hotter. Not to mention the fact that they weren't used to such temperatures. Not that Vincent seemed bothered by it. From the sweat lines on the back of his shirt, he was obviously affected, but it hadn't slowed his pace one iota. She tried not to let the muscled lines of his back distract her, but it was hard, even in this circumstance. He was a fine looking man in superb physical condition. And he was _hers_. She mentally shook herself. There were two women in very grave danger.

The fact that Kendra and Arielle had walked this deep into the wilderness area was very worrisome to her. The path they were following, if you could call it a path, was solid ground, but there were marshes on either side and lots of cypress trees with low hanging moss. She kept her gun in hand. She didn't like snakes.

Vincent was so focused he didn't appear to be concerned. She hurried to catch up with him.

Suddenly, they heard a scream, and out of the trees came a woman running toward them at full speed. She yelped when she saw Vincent and came to a stumbling halt.

"_No!_"

"Kendra McGuire?" Catherine asked.

The woman's once obviously expensive blouse and capris were torn and dirty and her feet were bare. She was sweating and wild-eyed, as if she'd been running for some time.

"Who are you?"

"It's okay. We're here to help. We've been trying to find you." Catherine slowly approached the woman who was close to her age but quite a bit taller and had red-gold hair. "I'm Catherine Chandler." She pulled out her badge. She had no authority there but it might put the frantic woman at ease. "I'm a detective. Jason sent us." The fact that Arielle was not with her hit Catherine like a punch in the gut. Had she become lost? Hurt? Or worse?

"Jason?"

"Yes. You're safe now. Safe. But . . . Kendra, where's Arielle?"

At the mention of the name, Kendra started to panic again. "I can't stay here! He'll hurt her! I can't stay!"

Vincent grabbed her arm as gently as he could before she bolted, but it still freaked her out. He held on. "Hey, hey, hey. No one's going to hurt you. Promise. Catherine,"

"Here." She offered the frightened woman her water bottle. "Is someone chasing you? Are you running from someone?" Catherine looked at Vincent over Kendra's shoulder and he shook his head. He didn't sense anyone else close by.

"He said to leave. I had to leave right away!"

"Okay, but . . . your daughter was with you at some point, wasn't she? Kendra, where's Arielle? Who has her? Where were they holding you?"

Lemdra crumpled to her knees in tears. "My daughter."

"Catherine," Vincent said sotto voice. "I can go on from here." Meaning, he still had a trail to follow. "Get her back to the house. She needs to rest."

"But you need to know what you're up against. Kendra," she addressed the woman again. "Do you know who has Arielle? Is it just one person? Several? How far . . . ?"

All she got back was a head shake and more tears.

"Take her. I'll find the girl."

Catherine reluctantly agreed, but she grabbed his arm at the last minute. "Take my gun."

"No. You may need it. Be careful going back. Get Jason on the phone and have him head back here pronto. He can meet you half way."

Because he saw the indecision in her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her. "I'll be fine. You think you can follow the trail back out?"

Not that they'd followed any kind of real trail in. No matter. She shook her head decisively. "I've got it. Go. Arielle needs you."

Catherine watched him run off into the trees.

* * *

"He s-said to tell you not to send anyone into the area to search. If you do, he'll kill her for sure. He'll kill both of us."

Catherine squatted down in front of the frazzled young woman who was lying on the sofa in the one of the several common rooms of the mansion. Her obviously pretty features were marred by a tear-streaked face and smeared mascara. She'd overheard one of the deputies question whether this was some sort of ruse on her part, but Catherine wasn't sure. This woman was scared out of her wits, and frightened for her little girl.

"Tell us more about the shack and the man. What do you remember about him?"

"I'd never seen him before. H-he was in the back seat of the car when I picked up Arielle. You know how I'm forever leaving the car unlocked," she said apologetically to Jason, who was sitting on the sofa next to her. "I'm so sorry!"

Jason rubbed her palm in a soothing gesture. Catherine could see he had questions in his eyes, but he still cared.

"He grabbed Ari's shirt and held a gun on her and forced me into the car. Then h-he had me drive out there. I didn't get a good look at his face. Once we arrived, he blindfolded us both."

"Did he tell you why, Kendra? What he wanted?"

Kendra focused on Catherine's face, then looked to Jason. "She's very pretty," she said. "Ari told me all about 'Catherine.'"

"Kendra," he said, warningly.

She focused back on the conversation. "No, nothing! I asked him what he wanted. I told him we'd pay him anything, just let us go."

They got a vague description of the man, but it could fit nearly anyone, including Vincent. There was still no indication of what the reasoning behind the kidnapping was or what would solve it, and Kendra's answers were getting more convoluted and confused as time went on.

"Jason, can I speak with you for a few minutes?" Catherine finally asked, getting to her feet.

Jason tenderly tucked a blanket up around his ex-wife's shoulders before getting up. He obviously still had feelings for her. Kendra had been given a sedative and it was starting to take effect.

"Have you heard from Vincent yet?" he asked, sotto voice, when they had moved far enough away.

"No. But I think I should go back out there."

"At this time of evening? Absolutely not. Besides, the man told her no search parties—"

"It would just be me. Whoever it is would never see me or think I was a threat, even if they did."

"It's too risky. Catherine, what is it? Are you worried about Vincent?"

If there was a jealous undertone to the question, she didn't know.

"No. I just want to do something. I feel useless here."

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that. It's too dangerous. We'll have to wait until morning now. Hopefully, we'll hear something before then."

"Jason." He turned at the tone of her voice, which sounded more serious than before. "You believe Kendra, don't you?"

"What?"

"Sorry. It's the cop in me coming out. You know her better than I do, of course. Is there any chance she isn't telling the truth? Is her behavior consistent with her personality?"

He frowned at the insinuation but she had to force the issue—for Arielle's and Vincent's sake.

"She's just traumatized."

"I realize that, but she's the only link we have. Has Kendra been mentally stable recently? We only have her word of what happened. All we really know is Kendra picked up Arielle after school and drove out to that spot. And returned without her. Arielle is still missing."

"I know that, okay? I'm half out of my wits with worry!" He sank down onto the nearest chair and put his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't mean to imply anything. Please forgive me."

"No, it's all right. You're just doing your job—what I asked you to come down here to do. We're all just on edge."

"I think I'd like to talk to Richard again."

He looked up at her, curious, but he didn't ask why. "Sure. I'll take you to him."

She checked her phone on the way. No message. The cell service had been very weak where they'd found Kendra, so she had no idea if Vincent was out of range in a dead zone, or worse.

On their way to the study, they met a tall, lanky man with gray hair and sharp eyes. Jason paused for introductions.

"Louis. I'd heard you arrived."

"Just before Kendra was brought home to safety, yes. I'm glad to hear she's all right."

"Yes, but it's not over yet. Arielle is still out there."

"Yes. Nasty thing, this situation. Ah, and who do we have here?"

"Louis Dauphinais is an on-again, off-again business partner of Richard's," Jason explained.

"More off-again recently," Louis put in with a smile.

"Louis, meet Catherine Chandler. She's a detective I met from New York."

At her name, Louis looked so startled, it was almost comical. Catherine extended her hand politely. "Pleased to meet you."

"Catherine Chandler, did you say? Any relation—"

"She's the sister of a co-worker of mine here in Miami," Jason supplied. "She brought a friend down to help with the search."

"A friend? Is that so? Well. So glad to meet you, Ms. Chandler. Please excuse me."

_Odd_. It was almost as if her name rang a bell with him. Or the mention of a friend. And why was he in such a hurry to leave? A chill ran up her spine. But no. Catherine mentally shook her head. She was as stressed as everyone else and must be imagining things. Louis Dauphinais could have no knowledge of her or her relation to a particular super-soldier beast or Bob Reynolds, for that matter. She didn't _think_.

She watched him go with narrowed eyes. At this point everyone was suspicious. She better have Tess look into it.

* * *

"Any word from Vincent?"

Tess's voice over the phone was reassuring. She just wished her best friend and JT could be down in Miami with her.

Catherine sat on the bed in the room she and Vincent had been given at the mansion. "Not yet. I'm going back out there tonight."

"To the Everglades. In the dark."

Those weren't questions, and Tess wouldn't like her answer, anyway. "What have you got? There's a guy here, seems to be a business partner or something of Richard's. His name is Dauphinais. Don't ask me how you spell it. He seemed a little strange."

"We already know about him. Louis Dauphinais. You've met him?"

"Yes, he's here at the house."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"Well, Dauphinais and McGuire just had a pretty big falling out over a piece of land on the coast. McGuire won, and Louis can't be too happy about that. Odd that he would be there."

Catherine frowned. Yes, that did seem strange. "Seems like he's also an old friend of the family, in any case. Why else would he be here?"

"I don't know, but he's also had a lot of run-ins with the FBI. And Reynolds."

That chill returned. "Really? Okay, dig up what you can on him and that piece of land. I'm going back out to find Vincent and, hopefully, Arielle."

"Cat, be careful."

"I always am."

* * *

Catherine tip-toed through the house. Lights were on in the study and the bedroom side of the sprawling rambler, but it appeared most of the staff had finally sought their beds. She was about to walk past the study door when she heard what sounded like low, angry tones. She stepped closer to the door.

"How dare you! Bring her to me this instant! If a single hair on her head has been harmed—"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Try to maintain some semblance of reserve, Richard. I don't do well with threats. This is a business deal, nothing less, nothing more."

"The hell it is! My family members are not part of any 'deals' I make."

"Oh, really? Yet they benefit from all of them. No, you have no right to separate them from this. I may not have family, but I have . . . loves. Hobbies. Whatever you want to call them. They feed my desires and soothe me as much as a woman or family could. And just as important to me. If your dear Ellen weren't always so protected by you or your swarm of body guards, she would have been the object of this, not them. It was just easier this way. In any event, you got my pledge of good faith. I returned Kendra. Now it's your turn to give me what I want."

"You could have just asked for it. You didn't need to do this."

"Didn't I? I did ask, remember? You said _no_. Now you pay the price for that."

"Don't you dare harm my granddaughter!"

"Keep your voice down, I'm warning you. One hint the authorities think I'm involved and you'll never see her again. She's quite safe, I assure you. For the time being, provided you cooperate. Just untouchable, unless I get that deed and you keep all knowledge of this 'transaction' under the table."

Catherine heard the scrape of a drawer and paper.

"What could possibly be worth this? Here you go. If I ever see your face again, it will be the last day of your life."

Instead of sounding alarmed, she heard Louis laugh. "You have no idea! Some things in life are worth _everything_," he said cryptically.

Catherine sprinted past the door and out of sight sensing that the conversation had just come to an end. She ran for the back door and the car she'd used earlier. As she sped out of town, she heard the throbbing beat of helicopter blades overhead. Louis? She didn't know, but she needed to find Vincent—and fast.

* * *

Vincent could easily make out the shack in the distance, despite the fact that the sun had long since dropped beneath the horizon. It sat nestled between a grove of trees so tightly that a passerby would miss it completely. Not that there were any passersby out there. No, it was obviously an old and poorly constructed fishing shack long abandoned. But even at that distance, he could pick out the muted cries of one very frightened but exhausted eight-year-old girl. Arielle.

Vincent circled the property, swinging in a wide arc around it. Curiously, there was a large open meadow just to the southeast with recent tracks in it. No doubt the egress by which the girl's captor or captors came and went. A little while back he'd heard a low flying helicopter overhead, but assumed it was a search vehicle. Perhaps that assumption had been wrong.

His steps as quiet as a stalking animal, he approached the building. A whiff of cigarette said the single guard on duty was on the other side taking his break. He peeked into the window. In the dark interior, a small figure lay curled upon a cot, her body shaking.

"Arielle?" he whispered, as quiet as he could make his voice. "Arielle?"

The girl finally heard him and turned, alarmed.

"Shhh. It's okay. I'm a friend. Catherine's friend. I'm here to help."

At the mention of Catherine, the girl sat up and looked toward the door, obviously nervous about her captor. That's when Vincent saw the cage. One half of the total space in the single room dwelling was filled with a heavy metal cage, Arielle inside, the iron bars of which were thick and rusting but still solid. Perhaps the shack had been used by gator poachers, he didn't know, but getting Arielle out was not going to be as simple as he hoped.

He was going to have to take out the guard; there was not help for it. Hopefully, there weren't too many others nearby. Unfortunately, Catherine would prefer he not break the guy's neck, deserving as he may be. It made things more complicated, but that's the way he had to work from now on. He was there to _save_ lives, not take them.

* * *

"Cat."

"Yeah, Tess. What did you find out? Anything on Louis or that property?"

"Yes. And you're not going to like what I found."

"Give it to me straight. I'm on my way out to find Vincent right now."

"Right now? Cat, be careful."

"I will. What have you got?" she asked impatiently.

"Well, it seems your Mr. Dauphinais—that's dauphin like 'prince' in French—thinks he's a descendent from some royal line. At least, he acts like it."

"Sounds like the right guy. Now tell me why he seemed to recognize my name."

"It gets worse, hang on. Dauphinais isn't after the piece of land per se; he wants the shipwreck that broke up along that piece of shore years ago."

"What shipwreck?"

"A lowly trader out of Port Royal in the 1600s."

"Pirates?"

"They called themselves 'privateers.'"

"So he's after a pirate's booty."

"As booty goes, it didn't have much, at least according to what we've found so far. Although one obscure article I read said it might have some stolen gems—it isn't clear."

"Okay. So that explains why he wants it—the hunt for treasure." Some treasure seekers were downright obsessed. It explained a lot.

"Yeah, the gems are just rumor. It's the other cargo I'm worried about."

"Tess, spit it out. I need to catch him in the act and we're running out of time."

"JT found a copy of an old manifest from the ship—don't ask me how. His skills on this one absolutely dazzle me. The writing was faded and in an old style we could barely read, but we made out one word that really creeped us out."

"Tess!"

"_Beast_. On the cargo list was the word 'beast.' Not 'beasts' like many. One. One beast."

The audio broke up a bit. "Like-like the kind of beast we know?"

"I'm saying, from what I can tell, Louis Dauphinais has been searching the globe for clues about ancient beasts—probably something he learned from Bob Reynolds at one time or another. We don't understand their exact connection. Just a sec. JT wants to tell you something." A male voice came on the line.

"Dauphinais knows Reynolds from way back. If he knows about beasts—"

"Then he may know about Vincent. Thanks, JT. I got it."

"Be careful! Don't trust him at all," Tess called in the background.

"I will. At least I know what I'm up against now." _But Vincent didn't_. And it might already be too late.

The phone started breaking up again.

"I'm losing you. I'll call you later after I talk with Vincent."

She didn't know if they heard her or not. It didn't matter. She needed to find Vincent.

* * *

Vincent motioned to Arielle to remain quiet and not to worry. Then he circled the property. There wasn't any noise coming from the front of the hut. Perhaps the man had fallen asleep. That would make everything easier. It was curious, though. No snoring or anything.

He finally risked a look around the corner. A lone figure sat upright in a single wooden chair on the front porch, a lit cigarette still burning. He took a step; no movement or awareness. In fact, no awareness at all. Vincent sped to him, one hand on the guy's neck before another breath could be drawn. Too late. The guy was dead, a single bullet through his forehead. Then he felt the crinkle of paper beneath the other hand he had on the man's chest. A note, written in blood and pinned to the guy's shirt, read simply: "_I KNOW WHO YOU ARE_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Vincent read the note again. 'I know who you are.' Did it mean him? As in _beast_? How was that even possible? Still reeling from that and seeing the dead guard, a trickle of fear kicked in the adrenalin and he turned, eyes already yellow. Who was out there? The blow knocked him back, although he never felt the bullet until it had already exited his skin on the opposite side. _Why do they always shoot me in the gut?_ he wondered. As the searing pain dropped him to one knee, fear for the child still inside lent him extra strength. Too little, too late. As he got to his feet, someone hit him in the back of the head. _Catherine . . ._ It was his last conscious thought.

"Why did you do that?!"

Louis's armed bodyguard stumbled for an answer as he and his pilot rushed forward to the porch of the shack where the stranger lay crumpled to the floor. "Y-you saw him! Something was happening! He was changing!"

"Exactly! And I wanted to see it. Now the opportunity is gone!"

"W-what do we do now?" one asked, less enthusiastic about approaching the injured 'man' as Louis was.

"Help me get him into the cage! Quickly! I don't know how long he'll be out."

The pilot looked at him askance. "What about the girl?"

"Better her than us! We can't let her go just yet. The situation's changed, and now I have to come up with a different plan. Just help me get him in there."

They carried the wounded soldier into the shack, unlocked the cage and dropped him onto the empty cot. The little girl huddled in the other corner.

_At least she wasn't a screamer_, Louis thought. Not like her mother had been. God, he was glad to be rid of that one. He hated whiny, squealy women even more. After he'd obtained the deed, his plan had been to simply free the child and appear to be the hero of the story, but after realizing who it was Jason called for help, he knew he had to rethink things. The man was Reynolds' super-soldier, he was sure of it. _That face_. It gave Louis a thrill just remembering those eyes. His bodyguard getting trigger happy had not been part of the plan, but it bought him some time.

* * *

Gabe sighed as he entered the metal security doors at the prison. He didn't like going to Reynolds for help, even though he'd proven useful on more than one occasion. But this time he needed answers.

"What do you know about Louis Dauphinais?" he asked without preamble.

Bob Reynolds, man of myth and nightmare, sat neatly attired in his prison orange while writing at the desk. He looked up immediately at the name. "Why?"

"So you _do_ know him?"

"I know him."

Good. At least he wasn't denying it, Gabe thought. "We think he's involved in a kidnapping case in Miami."

Bob turned back to his papers, disinterested. "So what if he is? That's nothing to me."

"Catherine and Vincent went down there to help. We're just trying to figure out what they're up against."

The metal chair scraped on the concrete floor as Bob jumped to his feet. "They hell they did!"

_A clue. _Gabe eyed him dispassionately, trying not to give away his own anxiety. One didn't get far with Reynolds if you showed any fear. You had to reel him in slowly. The man still had too many tricks up his sleeve.

"What's the problem? She's just helping out a friend. Is there danger? Just who is Dauphinais to you?"

Bob rubbed a hand over his face, and Gabe could tell he was trying to decide just what he could afford to say. Gabe decided to play the only hand that always worked. "Catherine may be in danger—"

"She already is, dammit! Get her—them—back here right away!"

Gabe grabbed him by the collar. "Tell me everything or you're going to be rotting away in here for the rest of your life."

Disgust spread across Reynolds' face. He easily pushed him away. "Like I'm not already. Okay, tough guy, listen up. I'm only going to say this once. Dauphinais was my deep pocket—"

"So Tori was right. You did have an overseas partner. What exactly does he know?"

Bob sat down heavily on the bed. "Enough to be dangerous."

"About beasts?"

"Everything. He knows everything, dammit. Yes, about beasts, Muirfield—the whole nine yards. Are you happy, now? The man's insane, but he suited our purposes and was a willing source of funds."

"And he knows who Catherine is to you?"

"He found out. He knows about her, about Vanessa, the experiments. And _Condor_. Especially Vincent. Louis is quite the researcher."

"Great. That's how he found the information on the privateer."

Bob looked up. "You mean he finally found it? He's been looking for that wreck for years."

"This kidnapping appears to be part of a plot to get the piece of coastline the wreck supposedly beached itself on hundreds of years ago. Apparently, a local historian in Florida recently identified it."

"Look. Louis only knew Vincent as Condor, but if he recognizes Catherine, he might well put two-and-two together, and you don't want that to happen. I didn't have Louis under the tightest control—"

"What a surprise."

"—but he should have learned that Muirfield is gone by now. I thought he'd turn his eyes to other interests. I even threw him a bone or two to get him off the trail."

"How magnanimous of you. To no avail, apparently."

Bob wagged a finger at him. "Just get my daughter away from him. _Now_. And Vincent. As much as I'd like to see him made into mincemeat, you don't want Louis to get a piece of him. Understand?"

Meaning, his DNA. Or worse. Gabe was on his cell before he even reached the door.

* * *

"Double it. We don't know what his strength is, but one chain isn't going to be enough."

The man doing Louis's bidding raised an eyebrow at that, but did what he was told, shaking hands and all. His boss didn't accept anything but swift obedience. He'd seen more than one man taken down on the spot for moving too slow or stopping to question. He didn't intend to be his next victim. That a human, whatever kind he was, could get himself out of the heavy chain was a little beyond imagining, but he'd seen something dangerous in the man's eyes, and he wasn't about to take any chances.

Once the deed was done, Louis seemed satisfied.

"You stay here with them. I've got to get back to the house."

The guard nodded, but surprise was evident on his face.

"A new plan. I need to make preparations." Not that he had to explain himself to this grunt, although the man looked sharper than many of the thugs in his employ. Money talked. That was the only language they understood. "See that they are both here and breathing when I return and there's a bonus in it for you. If not, you might as well use that gun on yourself."

Point made. With that, he ran back to the helicopter and his waiting pilot.

* * *

Catherine wiped the sweat off her forehead and paused again. A bead of moisture ran down between her breasts, both tickling and making her more miserable. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A bad sign. Holding the phone out, she was checking the compass app to determine if she was still headed in the right direction when something screeched in the trees next to her and she nearly jumped a foot off the ground. She dropped the phone and had to search for it in the dark. Thankfully, the face emitted a blue-ish light and she found it quickly in the tall grass.

Finding her way back to the car on her own with Kendra had been relatively easy earlier, but for some reason now she was doubting herself. Was that the same stand of cypress trees she'd passed before? The moon was only a crescent, but its light was a comforting presence. If only it would lead her to Vincent. She looked at her phone again—no bars.

"Vincent, where are you?"

* * *

"He's bleeding."

The little girl's voice was soft but sounded somewhat defiant to him, the guard thought, as he checked the cage lock again.

"Not my problem," he answered, hoping to shut her up, but he looked at the wound again before dismissing it. Flesh wounds were notoriously messy, but one hardly ever died from them. He should know. He'd been in Afghanistan. His patch job wasn't professional, but it would do. The kid had probably never seen anything like it. Thankfully Erik, the pilot, had had the presence of mind to slam the butt of his gun across the guy's temple and that had kept him out for a while, but not for much longer, he'd bet. And he was a betting man.

Why this guy was so valuable and required extra measures, he didn't know, nor did he want to. He'd seen some pretty tough guys in the field. He checked the cage lock for the fiftieth time, gave the girl a look of disdain and went to take a smoke outside. He had to shove the lifeless body of the other guard aside to clear the seat. Again, not his problem.

* * *

Vincent woke to pain in his side and pain in his head. Pushing himself upright, he struggled against the weight of heavy chains binding his wrists and ankles together. A throbbing sting hurt near the same area as the gunshot wound Catherine had inflicted, and he looked down to find something cotton knit stuffed next to the painful area, its white fibers red with blood. Damn, that hurt. He could tell it was closer to the surface and had not penetrated anything but muscle, but that didn't make it any less painful. He twisted again and started to swear, when he found two big eyes studying him. "Da—gnabbit!" _Arielle._

"I told him you were still bleeding, but he didn't care," said a small female voice.

He looked down at the garment again.

"That's my sweater."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically. It was ruined now.

"It's okay. I never liked it anyway."

He pushed himself up and examined his wound more carefully, as well as he could with his hands tied together. This time he made a conscious effort not to grunt and alarm her even more than she probably already was.

"Looks like it has stopped now."

"Are you really Catherine's friend?" she asked, a twist of blonde hair in her mouth.

He looked at the closed door. The guard smoking outside would not be able to hear their voices if they kept them down. He nodded. "My name is Vincent. And you're Arielle?"

She nodded, understanding the need for whispers. "Is Catherine here?"

"Yep. She's at your grandpa's house right now with your mom." At least, he hoped she was. Safe and sound.

At the mention of the girl's mother, she teared up, just a little.

"She's safe, Arielle. And you will be, too."

"Are you here to rescue me?"

He looked down at his chains and the bloody garment again and smiled ruefully. "Some rescue, huh?"

"It's okay," she said, bravely.

"Don't worry. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

She looked at his sleeve and he smiled.

"How long have I been out?"

"Um. Not too long. Maybe, like, half an hour, I think?" She looked at her watch in the dim light. It was pink plastic with Disney's smiling Belle on the front.

He smiled again. Smart girl, and not panicked, like he'd expect. He remembered how much Catherine had liked her when they met last December. If things had gone the way he expected, and she'd chosen Jason over him, the child might have become her step-daughter. He swallowed at the thought. Catherine, a mother. What an awesome mom she'd be. And wife. It probably wasn't in the cards for them-either idea, and that made him sad. The pain in his side mirrored the pain in his heart and brought his focus back to the present—and the very dangerous situation they were in. Whoever wrote that note and chained him up knew his secret. And that changed everything.

The chains he could deal with, but what about Arielle?

"I'm going to get you out of here, don't worry."

The child looked somewhat doubtful, glancing again at his bindings, but she nodded.

"You like Disney?"

"Sure. I've seen all the movies."

Beauty and the Beast obviously being one of them. No, that analogy wasn't the best. "Uh, how about superhero movies? You watch any of those?"

"You mean, like, Spider-man?"

"Like the Avengers."

"Sure. My daddy lets me see all of those. I've seen Thor one and two, all three Iron Man ones, I'm waiting for the new Captain America—"

"You know about the Hulk, then?" A better comparison.

"Hogan or the big green one?"

Vincent grimaced. Kids knew more today than he realized. "Uh, the big green one."

"Bruce Banner!"

He hadn't been able to recall the name. "Yes. Yes, that's the one. Well, Arielle, you see . . . I'm kind of like him."

Again, those big wide eyes. "You are?"

"I-I mean, I don't get big and green, but—"

"You get really strong, like a superhero?"

Her expression said she didn't believe it, and he hated the term, but it was the only way to explain it to a kid. The whole 'a-military-experiment-changed-my-DNA' story was a little too complicated for the situation, and he didn't have the time. What she was about to see she needed to understand in a way she could accept. And not be afraid.

"Arielle. I have a very big secret. If I show it to you, you can't tell anyone about it, even your mom and dad. Do you understand? No one can know."

Her eyes got big again.

"I can break through these chains, but I need to . . . kind of morph—do you understand morph?"

She nodded her head. "I think so."

"—I need to morph-out to do it. My face changes and I can get a little scary looking, but I won't hurt you, I promise."

"You turn into a monster?"

_The simplicity and innocence of a child_. "Sort of. J-just temporarily. You understand? I need to do that just to break these chains and get us out of here."

"The bad guy has a gun."

A very practical child. "I can deal with that. But here's what I need you to do."

As quickly as he could, he explained what was going to happen. She was to go into the farthest corner of the cell, cover her ears and close her eyes, and stay there-when he gave the word. He had two obstacles—first the chains, then the locked cage door. And he needed to be fast.

"Whatever you do, stay put until I tell you, okay?"

"Okay."

She kept staring at him.

"Promise?"

"Promise. Pinky swear."

"What?"

Arielle held up her little finger and he remembered something his nephew used to do. He held out his pinky, too, and she curled her finger around his. "Pinky swear."

She went to the corner and crouched down.

"On the count of three—"

* * *

Jason Hunter paced in his room. Thank God Kendra had finally fallen asleep, but that wasn't something he had any intention of doing. His little girl was still out there. And now Catherine. He'd heard the car leave a short time ago, even though he'd warned her off. If Kendra hadn't insisted on him holding her hand until she drifted off, he would have left sooner. All he needed was to have his daughter and another woman he cared about caught up in this trap.

He grabbed everything he could possibly need and headed after them.

* * *

"Put it down! Now!"

"Sir?" The pilot questioned over the intercom.

"In that field. I need to get out!"

Although the sedan was parked near the tree line, Louis easily spotted it as they flew over the site where they'd left Kendra's car days before. Someone had returned to the scene and was no doubt on the search for the shack and the kid. The car had been in the mansion drive earlier, so he knew it had already been found. The only question was, who had driven it out there tonight?

He'd already captured Catherine's 'friend'—the man he only knew as _Condor_—Bob Reynolds' personal killing machine. Jason wasn't likely to have driven there in his wife's car when he had his RV at the house. And Richard had 'people' to do everything for him. That only left Catherine. He smiled. This might work out better than he'd planned. As the pilot put the chopper on the ground, he pulled out his gun. She was a cop, after all, and Bob had spoken quite highly of her. He wouldn't take any chances.

* * *

"Three!" As Arielle ducked her head, Vincent surged up and through the chains. As soon as his hands were loose, he used them to free his legs. He was about to speed to the door when he glanced over to find Arielle watching him. At least she wasn't screaming. He didn't have time for another thought. He busted through the rusty lock on the cage and shot through the door to the guard.

It was over in seconds. Once he was able to ascertain that there was only one guard, he relaxed and brought his body down from its beast rage. _Arielle._

He bound the now-unconscious guard with the broken chains, tossed his gun into the woods, and returned inside the cabin with his hands in the air.

"It's okay, Arielle. It's all over. I promise."

"You're still bleeding."

He looked down, the sloppy patch-up job they'd done on him was indeed bleeding through, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It hurt like the dickens, but the shot had hit no vital organs and he could make it back to safety and help before he lost too much blood. He stripped off his outer shirt and tied it around his waist as tightly as he could. It would have to do.

"If you're not afraid of me, what do you think about me giving you a piggy-back ride back to your mom and dad?"

He face lit up. Unbelievably, the child reached for him.

* * *

Catherine stopped once more to get her bearings. She was close to the area they'd found Kendra, she was sure of it. Now it was just a matter of keeping on the same path until she ran into Vincent. She hoped. With any luck, he wasn't much further ahead.

She heard a twig break to her left. She was talking herself through a list of logical reasons for that—a bird, a small animal—and down from her panic when she heard the very distinctive cock of a gun at her temple. _That_, she knew.

"Very good. Remain calm and all will be well. I've been looking for you. You made better time than I would have thought."

"Let me guess. Louis Dauphinais."

"But of course."

"I thought I heard a helicopter overhead."

"I pride myself in having the quietest one around. Put the gun down and kick it away."

She did as she was told, her back still to her assailant.

"Now," he grabbed her from behind, the barrel of the gun still to her head, "we're going to continue walking, just like this, until we reach the cabin."

So perhaps they didn't have that far to go, after all. And Vincent should be there. "So what was your plan? Blackmail Richard into giving you the land, then release the little girl? McGuire doesn't strike me as someone who forgets a wrong done to him."

"I see you've done your research. Yes, that was the original plan. Now things have changed."

That chill again. "How so?"

"Oh, I think you might have an idea about that, too, hmm? Only a very special sort of person could have tracked us through these everglades so quickly. Tell me, what else can he do?"

Catherine felt fear like a punch in the gut. _Louis knew about Vincent!_ But what did that mean? "Are you taking me to him?" Hopefully, a very much alive and breathing Vincent . . . .

"I need more leverage than I originally thought. You make the perfect trade."

A movement in the trees ahead. Moonlight glinted off shiny blonde hair as Vincent and Arielle emerged from the brush. Even at that distance, their eyes met. He was free! She automatically sucked in a breath, catching Louis off guard. It was all the distraction she needed. Elbowing him sharply with one arm, she ducked simultaneously away from the gun just as he fired. The bullet hit the dirt at her feet. She used her forward momentum to swing around and send a lethal, booted foot toward his windpipe.

She missed. The wiry guy was faster than she expected. Catherine dropped to the ground, but he caught her hair and dragged her back to him.

"Move and she's dead!" Louis screamed as Vincent froze.

Vincent placed Arielle on the ground behind him as he watched the struggle. Louis was panting and obviously winded, but still in control.

He was too far away to speed over to them and gain the upper hand, but Catherine wasn't helpless. They just had to coordinate.

"It's me you want," Vincent shouted, his hands raised in surrender. "Let the women go. There's no need for anyone to get hurt."

"If only it were so simple . . . _Condor_." Louis laughed, a trickle of blood and sweat dripping from one corner of his mouth. "It's funny, you know. All this effort, wasted. When the bigger prize came right to my door. Now, it's just a matter of what you'll do in exchange for this one."

"Anything," he said immediately. Anything for Catherine. Even his life. He knew that with a certainty in his deepest parts. He'd do anything to ensure she was safe. "Spare her and the girl and I'm yours. I won't fight. I swear." Vincent was about to take another slow step forward when he heard Arielle gasp behind him.

"Daddy!" she screamed as lightning cracked overhead, bathing the entire scene in a macabre and frightening flash.

Everyone turned, Louis with his shaking finger still on the trigger. A single shot ran out and pandemonium spread.

Catherine dropped to her knees as blood pooled down her shoulder. The weight of the man pushed her down. And then Vincent was there, and Jason and Arielle.

"Catherine!"

"It's not my blood!" she immediately shouted back, realizing what everyone thought, especially Vincent. The look on his face terrified her.

"Thank God!" Jason pulled Louis off of her just as Vincent reached the three of them.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Catherine reassured Vincent, knowing he was that close to losing it and beasting out in front of Jason and Arielle. Jason had fired the shot, and although it had been effective, she could see Vincent gritting his teeth in anger. She placed a hand on his face as Jason ran to his daughter.

"That was a dangerous shot to take!"

"But he didn't miss," she reminded him. "_You're_ hurt!" He was covered in blood, too. Had his wound re-opened?

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"That doesn't look fine!"

"Catherine."

Jason returned with his daughter. "Come on, we have to get out of here. Rain's coming and I don't know where his pilot is," he urged. "Can you run?" he asked Vincent, eyeing the bloody wrap around Vincent's side.

Vincent wrapped an arm around Catherine in grim determination. "I can run."

* * *

"There. Now doesn't that feel better? I know I do."

"All those neat, little stitches. I couldn't have done better myself."

"That's right, you couldn't, and thankfully, this time you didn't have to. You were hurt in the line of duty—there's nothing to hide about. I'm glad Richard insisted on bringing someone in. You're a stubborn man, you know that?"

"You should have seen her covertly studying my other scar. She didn't ask any questions, but I could tell she wanted to. Her eyes were roaming."

"If her eyes were roaming, it was because you were shirtless. You would turn any woman's head, even a grandmotherly type like that."

He shrugged, thankful to be out of the light and intense scrutiny he was so unused to. The pain meds were working their magic and it was becoming easier to move without flinching. "I'm just sad that this means we can't take advantage of the McGuire's pool tonight. I was really looking forward to another 'date night' like we had at the hotel in New York."

"Uh-uh. You're not getting that wound wet. You'll have to be content lying on the beach tomorrow and just sunbathing in front of the ocean. Doctor's orders."

"Doctor didn't say I couldn't engage in other, less strenuous activities." He pulled her down onto the chair with him.

"Not that, either."

"C'mon. I'm fine. We don't have to be energetic."

"Forget it, Mister. 'Energetic' doesn't even begin to describe—oh, God." Her thoughts flew from her mind as he slid his lips down her neck and those soft bristly whiskers of his set her body aflame.

"What was that?" he murmured, his dark chuckle hot against her skin.

"Condo. Tomorrow. One day. Then we have to get home. And you're trying to distract me."

"And it's working. Tomorrow's _so_ far away."

"What about your side? Are you sure you're okay?"

"It's just a flesh wound. Believe me, that's not going to stop me. I'm perfectly capable."

"You're extremely 'capable,'" she laughed, terribly distracted by his roaming hands, "but kiss me like that again, and we're not even going to make it to the bed."

Vincent groaned loudly. Catherine immediately covered his mouth. "Shhhh!"

"What is it? Why are we" his voice grew very soft, "whispering? Because I plan on making some noise tonight—"

"The walls have ears!"

He looked up at the large, quality room, no doubt built with the thickest of walls, and frowned. "Oh, you mean because we're in your old boyfriend's house? Maybe he'll just think it's because of my injury."

"Not by the particular noises you're talking about!"

"Am I that bad?"

"You can't help yourself."

"You got that right."

She sat up straighter. "Okay, one, Jason is not my 'old boyfriend'. He was never my boyfriend, just a guy I dated. And two, this isn't his house!"

"Catherine, I don't know if you noticed, but I think he just dumped you for his ex-wife again. The way he was looking at Kendra make me think there's a 'family reunion' coming in the near future. They looked pretty cozy. Me thinks Kendra and Jason are probably making some of their own noise right about now."

"Hush! And he can't dump someone who isn't his girlfriend," she whispered frantically. "And Arielle's room is just down the hall, too."

"So?"

"So! What if she hears us and wanders down here to . . . investigate?"

"Investigate. I like that word. I need to do some of my own _investigating_ . . ." he said, trying to get under her thin, sleeveless Tee.

She shied away, but it was a losing battle. "You are incorrigible."

"No. I'm desperate. For you."

"Once a bad boy . . ."

"Yeah. And you like it."

"I do. Just not . . . here."

That got his attention. Vincent lifted his head and looked at her. "Then let's go."

"What? Where?"

In one swift move, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her, barefoot, toward the door. In seconds they were down the hall and out the doorway to the garden path to the beach.

"Outside. I know of a nice, very private beach where we can make all the noise we want."

"Out here? Out . . . side?"

"No walls. No ears—"

Catherine frantically scanned around for some other excuse as a tiny thrill niggled its way up her insides. "Just skies full of satellites and . . . drones."

He smiled back at her. "Nice try. I'm sure they aren't looking for lovers on a beach."

"That you _know _of."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now you're making excuses. I'm surprised at you, Catherine. I thought you were braver than that."

"I am . . . pretty brave."

"You are. And you've been parading around in those skimpy little outfits all week—"

"That's because it's been 85 degrees here!"

"—tempting me, and I can't take it anymore. Injured or not, I'm in desperate need of some good hot lovin'. I'm wounded. Pamper me."

"Okay. But outside?"

"Don't you know what it feels like to have a sweet ocean breeze cool you down after—" He finished the sentence with a hot kiss that began at her neck and started traveling down, down, down.

"All right, you've made your point," Catherine said, when she could breathe again, flushed to her tiptoes.

He looked at her face. She was uncomfortable but still willing, just because he asked. He loved that about her. "Tell you what. Because you are being uncharacteristically prudish, how about this?" They rounded the corner to find an airy, curtain cabana that faced the water, its gauzy drapes, thin but opaque, swaying gently in the breeze.

It was as good as she was going to get. "Works for me."

He pulled her down on top of him. "We're good, right?"

It took her a second to realize what he was asking. Was it a safe time of the month? "Y-yeah, sure. We're good."

Sometime between kisses and more kisses, she tried to do the math, but eventually gave up. She was long past caring . . . .


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N - Excited about the news today! Celebrating with this chapter. Hope you love it as much as I do. Still more to come, plus I've got a great idea for a follow-on story to this one when I'm done, so I'm excited about that, too. Love you all! xx_

**Chapter 5**

"You sure I can't convince you to go to the hospital for that?" Jason looked at Vincent's bandaged side dubiously.

"Vincent is a doctor," Catherine said, as if that explained everything.

"Oh, yeah? A doctor, a soldier, a finder of missing persons. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Nothing I'd ever admit to you," Vincent murmured, watching the nurse pack up her medical supplies after checking and re-bandaging his wound.

Jason laughed, getting the hint. "Don't worry. I never had a chance with her. She was always yours. But if you hadn't lent her to me for a short time last Christmas, I might not have my wife and daughter back today. I owe you everything."

"We all do." Richard added from the bedroom doorway.

"And since you won't take much else in the form of thanks," he continued, coming to stand in front of the patient. "Please enjoy my villa down the coast for a week or two. I've already spoken to your boss, Catherine, and cleared it with him."

She looked up, surprised. The man had some kind of power.

"A week in the sun sounds pretty nice." Vincent put his hands on her hips and tugged her closer, once they were finally alone.

"But what about Tori and Blaise?"

He shrugged. "What can happen in a week?"

* * *

"All that for a little piece of sand," Catherine reflected as they strolled the boardwalk of tiny tourist shops the next day. They'd spent the afternoon exploring the beach, combing the sand for shark teeth, and soaking in the sun and ambiance of the coastal strip near the condo the McGuires insisted they use for a few days of R&R.

"And a shipwreck that holds a secret."

"We don't know that. Most treasure hunters spend most of their time chasing down empty leads."

"Luis was not your run-of-the-mill treasure hunter. Besides, if your father had anything to do with it, Catherine, it was no empty lead."

She frowned. True, but a horrible thought. "Okay. Sore subject. Let's just . . . enjoy this while we can." She gestured to their scenic surroundings. "Thank you, by the way," she added, catching her reflection in a shop window. "These are lovely." The coral shell earrings added the perfect touch to her sun-washed Tee done in all the colors of a sunrise.

Vincent let the other subject drop and focused on her. There would be time later to talk about Luis and Reynolds and their dastardly plans. "They look beautiful on you. I wanted you to have something to remember—a good memory—from our time here." He tucked an arm around her, pulling her in closer. "We haven't done anything like this in a while, yeah? Do you know how long it's been since I've felt sand sifting through my toes?"

"Yeah." A slow grin spread across her face as she pushed up on her sandaled tip-toes for a kiss. He boosted her the last inch. Without her heels, their height difference was more problematic.

"It was very generous of Richard to give us not only the use of his condo, but some spending money as well," he said.

"Hey. You earned every penny of that."

"We both did."

The steady breeze freed long strands of her hair from its clasp, and she pulled them back from her face. "I think he feels a little guilty, especially because you were hurt."

"Yeah, he does. He thinks he caused the whole problem." He stepped off the wooden decking and down onto the sand. "He's not entirely wrong."

"I'm sure it never occurred to him that such a thing would happen—that he'd be putting his family in danger in a tussle over a little slice of coastline."

"A 'tussle' is what we do when we go at it. Those two were after blood. No, Richard should have known the person he was dealing with. Something tells me he's going to be prioritizing his life a little differently from now on."

"Probably a good idea. Speaking of his family," she turned to him, "you had your talk with Arielle?"

He smiled at her. "That one's going to be a real manslayer some day."

Catherine laughed. "Yeah? I could tell she'd already captured your heart. How did your conversation go?"

"Well, she asked me, very seriously," he took her hand in his, "if someone had put a spell on me."

An interesting way to look at it. "What did you say?"

"I said yes, in a way, and that we're still looking for a cure." He turned serious. "I know you're worried, Catherine, but you don't need to be. Arielle isn't going to tell a soul about my secret."

She stopped and faced him. "Vincent, she's just a child. How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, swinging her up and setting her onto the beachwall ledge. It put them nose to nose. "Because we pinky-swore."

"You what?"

"We swore with our pinkies," he wriggled his last digit then wrapped it around hers, "that we wouldn't tell a soul. She won't divulge my secret, and I'll never tell hers."

"Wait. She has one, too? What kind of secret could an eight-year-old child like that possibly have?"

"Catherine," he looked at her sternly. "I pinky-swore. I can't tell you—on pain of _death_."

She laughed, despite her misgivings. "Well, if she ever does—and I'm not saying she will—I just hope it's not overhead by malevolent ears, and just passed off as the ramblings of an imaginative child."

He laughed. "She is that. Speaking of children," he paused dramatically. "Tori had been looking for Reynolds's foreign investors. He swore he didn't have any. I guess she was right after all."

Catherine glanced up, surprised. She hadn't known. Maybe Tori was smarter than they'd all given her credit for. She was about to reply when her cell phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket.

"It's Tess. Maybe we'll get an update."

"Be sure to tell her what we're doing right now. Rub it in."

"Shhh! You're terrible." She pressed the button. "Hey, partner. How's it going? Yeah, we're fine. Everyone's safe and sound, finally. Well, except for the bad guy. He's dead. No, _Jason _shot him. Yeah. It's kind of a long story."

She heard JT's voice in the background. The two seemed to be together on a regular basis these days. She'd have to get the skinny on that from Tess when they got back home. The thought made her smile. Suddenly, JT was on the line.

"When are you coming back?" he demanded without preamble.

Catherine caught Vincent's eye, knowing he could hear the conversation. He lifted his hands, meaning, 'it's up to you.'

"Actually, JT, we're taking a couple days of R&R. Vincent got hurt—it's minor—but he could really use another day or two to rest. Why? What's up?" He sounded urgent, but then, this was JT.

"What's _up_? More like, what's left still standing," he grumbled. "The club has been trashed!"

"Trashed?" Vincent took the phone and put it on speaker. "Vandals?"

"A very specific vandal name of Windsor, to be exact," JT groused, disgust evident in his voice. "She not only trashed the club, but Gabe's apartment, too. We haven't been to Cat's place yet, but it stands to reason it looks the same, I hate to say."

"But why? What's going on?"

"She's looking for Blaise. Apparently, Miss 'Mother of a New Generation' isn't taking too well to being prego and she blames him for it. She's looking for him, and—oh, God."

"What?"

"He just showed up." They heard some muffled conversation in the background and another male voice—Blaise's.

"Y-you need to get out of here. Now. Tori will be back. S-she can track you, you know!"

Catherine and Vincent heard Blaise murmur something in reply and tried to get JT's attention again. "JT, what's got her all riled up?"

"Hormones, what else? Oh, crap, and she's here. Get the tranq!" he yelled at someone, probably Tess.

They heard what sounded like a door banging open, a crash, then Blaise's calm, cajoling voice.

"H-hey-hey, now listen here—" JT interjected, the phone no longer to his ear.

"JT! Talk to me! What's happening?" Vincent demanded.

A yell, followed by a growl. Blaise spoke again, but his voice was suddenly cut off, and then they heard another loud crash.

"Now, what have you done?!"

"JT!" Vincent tried again.

After a moment he came back on the phone, out of breath and obviously alarmed. "She just threw Blaise across the room. He's out cold, if not dead."

Catherine gasped.

"Let me talk to her, JT. Put Tori on the line, now!"

There were some sharp voices, then some unintelligible murmuring between JT and Tess which they couldn't make out. A door slammed. Finally JT came back on the line. "She's gone. She left."

"Is Blaise all right? Check his vitals, JT."

"Tess is checking on him right now. Okay," he sighed loudly into the phone. "He's breathing. But he's bleeding. And he's going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up."

The relief in JT's voice was evident. Blaise would be okay. They all just needed to calm down. "What brought all this on?"

"According to Beast-lover Boy, Tori's been having wild mood swings all week. One minute she's super sweet; the next she's ranting and raving."

"Her hormones are probably fluctuating," Vincent murmured.

"Ya _think?__"_

Vincent heard the panic in his friend's voice, but there was only so much he could do long distance. "JT, just hold on until we get home. It isn't Tori's fault, okay? She probably doesn't understand what's happening to her. You need to be patient."

"_Patient?_ I'm the patron saint of patience! I didn't want to say I told you so, but . . . this was a _colossal mistake_, if you ask me. Or, ask Blaise," he said, acerbically—Blaise being unable to respond.

"Listen. Call Gabe, get his help. Use the tranq, but only if you have to. We don't know what it will do to the baby."

JT muttered something under his breath but it was indecipherable.

"How's Blaise doing now?"

"He's handling it well, considering." His voice dripped sarcasm.

Tess grabbed the phone from him, her voice calmer and more matter-of-fact. Catherine imagined her rolling her eyes at JT. "He's out cold. Looks like our Mamma Beastie isn't such a happy camper right now. I can't wait to see how she handles childbirth or an _actual _screaming baby. You two need to get back up here, pronto!"

Okay, maybe not so calm. Catherine looked at Vincent. He nodded, reluctantly.

"All right. We will." Catherine told her. "We'll leave as soon as we can, but it might take a little time. There are things we need to wrap up here. Keep us up to date."

They finally disconnected.

"What do you think?" she sighed. "Should we leave tonight? I mean, we can probably book a red-eye and be back there by late tomorrow morning—"

"No way." Vincent shook his head. "You haven't had a real vacation in almost two years. You know JT. He's always in a panic about something."

"Yes, but I also know Tess. She's not normally like that."

"They're okay for now. Gabe can help. Put him to work for a change. We agreed to take a couple of days to relax before returning, and that's what we're going to do. JT is a big boy. He and Tess can handle things."

"With enough Tums." She smiled reluctantly. "I worry about him. And Blaise."

Vincent sighed and lifted her down. It looked like their time in Paradise was swiftly coming to an end. "We'll be home before you know it, and all will be well." They headed back to the condo. If their time was limited, they were going to make the most of it.

* * *

That night, Vincent intended to quietly roll away from her, but the constant drone of the tide had lulled him into a contemplative mood and he knew she was as wide awake as he. He turned to face her and pressed lingering kisses along every inch of sweet, silky skin within easy reach.

"You're going to be sorry in the morning."

"Actually, it's already morning," he whispered back, looking at the glowing face of the clock on the nightstand.

"And once it gets daylight you're staying in this bed. Looks like that patch job is holding, but rest is what you need."

"I like the way you're thinking."

"Uh-uh. Not with me. I'm your nurse today and I say no. If you start bleeding again, I'm calling back that elderly woman doctor."

"C'mon, I'm not talking about getting too energetic, just—"

"You're always too _energetic_. You've been overdoing it," she pointed out. "The walks on the beach—"

"—the cabana,"

"The shopping,"

"—the cabana,"

"The cabana. Are you listening to me?" His hands were wandering to all the right places.

"Yes, ma'am. It's just . . . you're very distracting."

"No more. Sleep now. Tomorrow's our last day. I want to take you home in one piece."

"Okay. Tomorrow?"

"We'll see."

She pushed him back toward his side of the bed, but he had that look in his eye. It was going to be a very difficult task . . . .

They slept well into the afternoon.

* * *

"Oh, my God! I thought I wasn't going to make it!" Heather's stiletto heels clattered across the tiled terminal floor as she raced the last few feet to where they stood with their bags. "When I heard Vincent got hurt, I couldn't believe it. I feel so bad."

"He's fine." Catherine glanced over to where Vincent stood quietly talking with Jason and Richard, strong and tall. _More than fine_. "And I'm okay, too. Most importantly, Kendra and Arielle are safe and healthy. We were lucky. Believe me, I've been around enough of these situations to know they don't always end this well. Relax, Heath. It's part of the job."

"I'll never get used to it!"

"You don't have to. At least, being in Miami, you don't have to hear about it every day."

"Speaking of which," Heather lowered her voice. "So, when's the wedding? You know, you two make quite a team." At Catherine's sharp exhalation, she continued, unaffected. "C'mon, the way you two have been looking at each other, I figure bells will start ringing any time now."

"Heather, we're . . . not at that point yet. We may never be." She gave her sister a quelling look.

"Okay. Whatever you say." Heather was _not _convinced. "I just want to be there when you are. I've decided to move back to New York, Cat."

"_What?_"

"I didn't say 'moving in,' so you don't have to worry. No 'three's a crowd' issues or _kissus interruptus_ again, I promise."

"But what about your job here? You love it. And Daniel?" He'd been her sister's latest distraction since she moved to Miami. And she knew the two were still dating.

Heather waved the thought away. "He's just a passing fling. Not Mr. Forever. And a job I can find anywhere. New York is home, Cat. It's where my entire family is—you. I just . . . I want to be there when Vincent pops the question, when you walk you down the aisle, when your children say their first words—"

"_Heath-er!_" She dragged her sister out of earshot of the men. "Okay, now you're stepping over the line—"

Heather didn't look concerned. "_Whatever _the future holds. I just don't want to hear about it through an email, Cat, or on Skype. I want to be there. With you. This whole thing has made me realize just how much. Maybe _I'll_ be the first one to have a family, who knows? I just want to be near you when I do, not fifteen hundred miles away. There's no talking me out of it. I've already given my notice. It will take me a little while to pack up, but then I'm headed home."

At the look of resolve in her sister's eyes, Catherine realized she was serious. "And you can totally move back in with me," she offered, getting a little teary-eyed herself.

"Really? Won't Vincent—"

"He hasn't moved in. Besides, we can go to his place if we need some . . . privacy."

"Doesn't he have a roommate, too? What? I'm just stating the obvious. And you're blushing."

"I am not blushing. I got some sun while I was here—"

Heather pointed a finger. "That's blushing. Anyway, hug-hug." She reached in for a squeeze. "I know you have other good-byes to say. I'll see you soon, okay? We'll figure it all out then."

"Okay."

"Love you bunches."

"You, too."

It was Heather's turn to get misty-eyed. "Okay. I gotta go, and you have a plane to catch. Bye, Sis. And Vincent," she turned and walked the few paces to where he waited. Reaching up to give him the same warm hug, she whispered, "Thank you so much. Now take good of my sister."

"You got it."

Richard McGuire held out a hand. "Catherine, we can't thank you enough. And Vincent. I'm still amazed you were able to find that cabin as quickly as you did when our local authorities were so clueless. I feel personally responsible for your injuries, though, Vincent. I'd really wish you'd taken me up on my offer to check you into the clinic."

"Oh, no, sir. I'll be fine, trust me. This is nothing."

"It isn't nothing to me, son. It's the price of my granddaughter's freedom. And possibly her life. I owe you more than I can say. At least let me write an endorsement for your investigative services."

"I'd appreciate that, but your offer of the use of your condo is more than enough."

"I wish you'd consider staying longer."

"We'd love to, but—"

"Unfortunately, I really must get back to work," Catherine put in, saving Vincent from having to make excuses. They'd delayed long enough, and with the Tori and Blaise drama, both felt the need to get home as soon as possible.

"Well, I understand. But you just let me know anytime you want a week or two in the sun and you've got it."

They shook hands and said their good-byes, but there was one more conversation to be had.

"Catherine, can I have a minute?" Jason Hunter looked to Vincent for permission.

Catherine had no such qualms and led him a few paces away. "Of course." With his hands stuffed in his pockets and that shy look on his face, he almost reminded her of someone else she knew and loved.

"I know this whole thing was probably very awkward for you and Vincent—coming down here and helping me."

"Not at all," she assured him.

"I don't know what I would have done without you—both of you—but I have my family back, and I can't thank you enough. I hope, when I get back to New York on business, you'll let me take you both out to dinner? I'd really like to be friends, if you're both open to that."

"Jason . . ."

"You'll forever hold a place in my heart, Catherine, but Kendra wants to come home, start things over."

"Oh, Jason, I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah. Me, too. Arielle, as well. It will be better for her when we're a family again."

She thought of Heather. Yes, it was important for family to be together. "I'm sure that's true."

"By the way, she's never forgotten you. Still talks about our 'movie date.' And she took quite a liking to Vincent, too. I think he's her new hero."

"Well, he's mine, too."

His smile, a little sad, was genuine. "I can see that. You're both very lucky. Listen, I don't know what caused your falling out last year—it's none of my business—but hold onto him, Catherine. Don't let small things become big and get between you to destroy what you have. Not everything can stand the test of time, but a true partnership will last a lifetime if you nourish it."

Words he'd obviously learned from experience.

He looked over at Vincent standing several feet away. "Something tells me he's worth fighting for." Jason shrugged. "Just my two cents."

"Thank you, Jason. And I think you're right."

"Well," he rallied himself. "I've meddled enough. I don't want the big guy thinking I'm trying to charm you away from him again, so . . . Godspeed to you both, Catherine, and thank you again."

"It was our pleasure."

"Don't be a stranger."

"We won't."

Vincent caught Jason's salute and nodded back, the men having already said their good-byes. When she returned to his side, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "What was that all about?"

Catherine laughed at the look in his eye. "Jealous?"

"A little," he reluctantly admitted. "I think the guy still has feelings for you."

"Well," she put a calming hand to his arm, "they're of the _brotherly _kind now, I promise, so you can sheath those claws. After what you did for him, Jason's absolutely harmless. And he wants to be friends—with both of us. You could use another friend, you know."

"Dangerous."

"Maybe. But why don't we try living dangerously for a change?"

"Ha ha ha."

* * *

She leaned her head against his shoulder on the plane and watched the earth fall away from them.

Vincent smiled. "It's like having our very own timeshare in Florida," he mused, thinking about the condo offer Richard had made them.

"Only without the cost. Just . . . don't get your hopes up of returning anytime soon," Catherine squelched his happy thought. "After all the time I've taken off recently, I'll be lucky to still have a job. It will be a long time before I'll get any vacation again. Why are you smiling?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing that skimpy bathing suit on you again."

"It wasn't skimpy!"

"No? Then I'll buy you another—skimpier."

"Don't you dare," she whispered, her sleepy eyes falling closed.

"You know, if this business venture of mine becomes successful enough, someday you could quit your job—"

"I love my job."

"—if you _want _to."

"Why would I?"

He shrugged, the movement gently shifting her against him. With her eyes closed, she missed the look in his eyes. "I don't know, but I could think of a few reasons . . . ."

* * *

"Oh, thank God!"

Vincent bear-hugged his buddy and set his bag on the floor. Then he scanned the main room of the club. A neat pile of debris in one corner was the only evidence remaining that something had happened there. "Where's Tori?"

"She's not _here_—that's the important thing." At the look in Vincent's eye, he reluctantly added, "No one's seen her since the 'incident.' But our new _roomie _is in the back room." Blaise.

"I'll go talk to him."

"Better yet, find Tori. We haven't heard of any strange happenings in the city, but I don't like not knowing where she is."

* * *

Catherine filled her cup at the coffee niche in the precinct as Tess loomed over her.

"Have I told you lately how happy I am that you're back?"

"Only five times since breakfast."

"Don't ever do that to me again."

"LOL, Tess. It was only a week!"

"A week from hell!"

Catherine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Have I told you lately that you're the best friend ever? What would I do without you?"

Tess leaned on the counter and gave her a smirk. "Well, you might have run off to Canada by now. I was starting to think that sounded like a pretty good idea, myself."

"You never run from trouble."

"No? I've never had to babysit a" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "pregnant mamma beast with attitude before!" When Catherine frowned, she added. "You know I've always got your back, Cat, but—"

"I'm really sorry you had to go through that. But at least you had JT. And I spy another awesome team in the making."

Tess blushed but didn't deny it. "It's . . . odd, isn't it?"

"Like I've said before, you can't control your heart . . ."

They moved away when someone else entered the alcove.

"So. How's Tori?"

Obviously, the 'hell' part of the conversation, and more comfortable for Tess than discussing JT. "Vincent's giving her some space for a few days, then he'll go find her. He says we should be sympathetic. Until we've gone through the same thing—"

"—and we _won't_. Well, hopefully not," Tess added, remembering her best friend was in a serious relationship with a beast of her own.

"She has a lot to deal with."

"Which is why JT is right. It was an insane idea to let this happen."

"Tess, my relationship with Vincent is insane, but we make it work."

"You've been through hell and back because of him."

"All worth it."

* * *

Vincent crossed the roof of the empty building. "Tori?"

In the darkest corner of the rooftop, Tori Windsor sat nearly invisible against the black night sky, but he'd sensed her presence almost instantly.

"How'd you find me?" She spoke without turning. "Nevermind. Stupid question."

"I just followed the trail of tears."

She sniffed. Vincent slid onto the ledge beside her, their feet dangling over thin air eight stories up. It was where he'd be if the situation was reversed. And in a similar state. He'd given her time, but now she had to face the music and move forward.

"Look. There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself." She tried to cut off the conversation before it began.

He wasn't having it. "Really? How about, 'You're a beautiful woman. You deserve happiness in your life. And you didn't mean to do anything wrong.' How am I doing?"

"Not exactly the mantra that's been running through my head."

"I didn't think so." He turned to face her as she continued to gaze out over the darkened city. "Listen. I'm no expert on these kinds of things. God knows, I've made my mistakes with Catherine—more than I want to admit, and more than I deserve forgiveness for. But what we have—it's worth everything. It's worth hanging in there even when it hurts and I want to give up. Even when I'm embarrassed and ashamed and feel undeserving."

She finally looked at him. "You can't just _want _the right person," she said, and he knew, in a small way, she was thinking of him, "you have to _be _the right person. And I'm not."

"Says who? Not Blaise, that's for sure."

"I _hurt _him."

He nodded. "And I hurt Catherine. I'm not proud of it. And I don't ever want to do it again, but . . . I've made mistakes and I'll probably make more. She was able to forgive me. He's upset with you right now, understandably, but he'll forgive you, too. But you need to take the first step. Tell him how you feel. It starts with forgiving yourself."

"I already said I was sorry."

"So? Is he worth fighting for or not?"

"Of course, he is!"

"Then show him. Get up and fight. Go after him, Tori, and then don't let go."

She looked up, surprise evident on her face. Then she stood. And ran.

* * *

"So?" Catherine asked him when he returned. "How is she?"

"Miserable, feeling guilty, embarrassed, and depressed. She can't believe she did that to Blaise. Can't forgive herself. I know the feeling." He looked up at her somberly.

"She loves him. And he loves her. They'll work it out."

"Hopefully without him having to shoot her in the gut."

"That would be a trick—a blind man with a gun." She tried to joke, but the thought was too painful. She looked down, still uncomfortable with their past and her role in it. But right or wrong, it had brought them back together. "It took a lot to get to where we are." She slid her hand up his injured side. The scars had faded to a dull gray, but they'd always be there as a reminder to both of them. "Worth it?"

"Every second. I'd take a dozen rounds if it meant getting back to 'us.'" He kissed away her frown and morbid thoughts. "You know, Tori could use a friend. I'm not exactly the best one to be giving relationship advice."

She smiled. "You're better than most, actually. Will she talk to me?" Not that she particularly liked the idea, but she was willing.

"I doubt it. She's envious of you. Of us."

"Hmmm. And here I was feeling envious of her."

"Because of the baby?" His eyes sought hers.

"Because they weren't letting anything hold them back from trying to have a _normal _life."

He lifted an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "I'm not saying I'm ready for that. But I hope it works for them. I really, truly do."

* * *

A week later Vincent lay cross-wise on the bed, his head resting just beneath her left breast. They'd had a difficult night. He'd insisted on pulling away at the last moment again, and she'd cried. Again. Catherine always forgave him, after, but it was getting harder and harder for both of them. With Heather returning, their nights together would be fewer and farther between, and he hated to lose a single moment. He lay listening to her heartbeat gradually slow down. It was his favorite time. As they drifted in that moment between waking and sleeping, he suddenly perked up. Then he pressed his ear closer. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Catherine murmured, sleep already heavy in her voice.

"Your heart's beating a funny rhythm."

"Again?"

When the building had collapsed months ago and trapped her in that tiny space, he'd literally willed her heart to steady its erratic beat. At least, he wanted to believe it was his love and nearness that had saved her in those critical moments, but he knew that was probably wishful thinking. Since then, her heart had regained its strength, though he always checked. But this was something altogether different.

"I feel fine. _Exhausted_, but fine. It's probably because of what you just did to me." She turned and opened an eye at him, smiling faintly.

Her gut was also making noises. He tried to recall when they'd last eaten. "Hungry?"

"Starved."

"I'll get you something."

When he started to rise, Catherine reached out a hand. "No. I just want to sleep. Will you stay?" Meaning, until morning? Sometimes it was easier for him to leave and seek his bed at the club than remain with her and the constant temptation to keep her up all night.

"Forever."

Vincent put his head back down against her heart—the heart he loved above all others, the heart he knew intimately well—it's rhythm deeply embedded in his soul. Then he heard it again—tiny, and infinitesimal, but it was there—a second rhythm!

His own pulse sped up. He lifted his head to look at her, amazed, but she was already drifting off.

"Catherine?" he whispered, afraid to acknowledge it, even to himself. He licked his lips.

"Hmmm?" Her slow response said she was nearly out.

"Nothing. Sorry. Go back to sleep." He laid his head back down, but the longer he listened, the more certain he became. He turned his face to her stomach and pressed long kisses there.

"Catherine?"

"Yesss . . . ." Her voice was as soft as a moon beam.

"Do you love me?"

"Mmmmm."

"Promise you'll stay with me forever?"

She mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"Pinky . . . swear."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

JT emerged from his room, backpack in hand, ready for the day. Coming around the corner, it startled him to find Vincent standing silently behind the bar, staring into space.

"Hey. Thought I'd get an early start. A new quarter begins today. Now that you're back, the redhead is contained and spring break is over, all's right with the world. You're up early, by the way. Or was it another night without sleep?" JT laughed at his own joke but got no reaction from his best bud. "I don't know how you do it, man. You guys seriously need your own apartment." When that bold suggestion also received no response, JT frowned. "Vincent?"

Vincent finally turned his head, as if noticing him for the first time. "Oh, hey. What?"

"Are you even listening to me? I just suggested you and Cat move in together and got zero reaction out of you. It's like you're in La La Land or something. What happened? Catherine toss you over again for that guy in Mia—"

"Catherine's pregnant."

JT spewed his coffee across the room. It was the pause heard round the world. His pack fell to the floor. "_Excuse me?_"

Vincent slowly took another sip from his mug of cooling java and smiled fractionally. "It isn't confirmed yet, but . . . I'm pretty sure."

JT's only comment was to sag into the nearest chair.

"I know, right?" Vincent rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. "I'm still not sure I believe it myself."

"H-how did this happen?" Realizing what he said, JT tried again. "I mean, I know _how _it happened. It's just—"

"Crazy."

"You can say that again." JT sighed heavily and put his head in his hands.

"Aren't you going to class?"

JT looked up. "You drop a bomb like that on me, and think I'm just going to go merrily on my way? I think this deserves a sick day. This is a little more important than whatever else I had planned, believe me."

"JT. I said it's not confirmed."

"But you _know_."

Vincent's smile was lopsided and deep-dimpled. "I'm a little afraid to get my hopes up, but . . . I heard the heartbeat."

"You what?"

"I heard a second heartbeat, JT. And it wasn't coming from her chest."

Amazing as that statement was, JT was still back one line. "You're afraid to get your hopes up? You realize that is a one-hundred and eighty degree flip from where you were a year ago when this same situation came up? What happened? This thing with Tori and Blaise is going so well, you two just couldn't wait to try it for yourselves? I'd think it was enough to make you run out and demand to be sterilized! I'm certainly considering it."

Vincent eyed his friend. "C'mon, JT. Catherine isn't like Tori."

"No. But _you _are. _D.N.A._, remember? _Beast_. Any of those terms mean anything to you right now?"

"I know what you're going to say, okay? It's a big risk. I said before that we could never let it happen, but . . . we weren't ready then. Muirfield was hunting me, Catherine's task force was looking to kill me. Those threats are gone. And now that it has happened, I feel . . . excited."

"Oh, my God. You _want _this."

Vincent looked sheepish. He shrugged. "What's not to want? JT, my DNA may be screwed up, but inside, I'm a normal guy who wants a future with the woman I love. A family. I love Catherine, with everything I am."

JT bit down on his tongue. This man was his best friend, and someone he'd spent more than ten years of his life protecting. It only felt right to do so now, but the situation was a lot more complicated than that. "I know you do, but raising a . . . _beast _baby might be a teensy bit detrimental to that relationship."

"We won't know until we try."

"And then what? Vincent, this isn't rocket science. One plus beast equals . . . beast!"

"We don't know that. I'd like to do an amnio test on Tori, but it's not worth the risk. We have to wait and see."

JT digested that with a little help from his overactive bile duct. "Well, w-what does Catherine think of it? I mean, if I were her—"

"She doesn't know." At JT's arrested look, he continued. "I don't think. And I don't want to alarm her. Not yet."

Wondering just what would constitute a reasonable point at which to do that, JT pressed on matter-of-factly. "Exactly. Because 'alarm' is definitely the right word here."

Vincent gave him a pained look. "And since I don't know anything for sure—I mean, a lot can happen in the first few weeks of a pregnancy. She'll eventually figure it out on her own, anyway. In the meantime, I thought I could try to ease her into accepting it. I'm going to test the water, so to speak."

"I think you've not only tested the water one too many times, you've gone and drank the whole barrel. Maybe what you heard was indigestion?" At Vincent's frown, JT threw up his arms. "I'm just saying."

"JT, I can distinguish Catherine's heartbeat in a crowd of people in the middle of Times Square. I know what I heard."

"Really? I mean, that's cool. Insanely weird, but . . . I still think she should be told—the sooner, the better."

"I didn't know what to say," Vincent admitted, shrugging. "I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it, myself."

"How far along is she? I mean, when . . . ?"

"It must have happened when we were in Miami. I don't know. There were lots of distractions . . ."

And if he was afraid to tell her, then it sounded like Vincent wasn't that certain it _was _a good thing. JT stood, amazed. It was so far from what he imagined this day would be like, he could hardly fathom it. He thought about Tori and Blaise and shuddered. But this was Vincent. And Catherine. The most responsible people he knew. He inwardly shrugged off his fears and opened his arms. "Then I guess this calls for a little celebration. Good thing you can drink alcohol now, huh? Congratulations, buddy. You're going to be a father."

"You mean it?"

The hopeful look on Vincent's face was all he needed. "You better believe it." He pulled him into a bear hug. "This whole Tori incident—"

"What about me?" Tori Windsor stood in the doorway of the club, her hair soaked from the pouring rain.

"Speaking of the devil" JT murmured under his breath, then he saw her look. "Ah, God. Not again." He moved from the hug to standing slightly behind Vincent.

"I want to talk to Blaise."

"He's not here." For that ignorant statement, Vincent received an elbow in the gut.

"You can't find him? Just use your 'Spidey' senses. You know, I don't really think you have a right to demand _anything_—"

"JT—"

"Forgot to mention, your new BFF moved in here yesterday," JT said under his breath. "If she breaks another piece of furniture, so help me—"

"Let me talk to him," she repeated.

"Sorry," JT decided Vincent's tack was the right one after all. "No can do. He's not—"

The back bedroom door banged open, revealing the lie. Hair combed and neatly dressed for work, Blaise made his way doggedly across the long room, his cane periodically tapping the floor and furniture on the path he'd been memorizing.

"Blaise!"

Blaise blithely ignored the outburst. And the person who made it. "I'm headed to work, guys. I'll see you later." At the coat rack, he unerringly located his jacket and put it on.

Vincent looked back and forth between the two. Tori looked crushed and hurt; Blaise's face showed nothing. He chose the one who could read his subliminal messaging and nodded to Tori to do something. She whispered Blaise's name, but didn't move. Finally, Vincent grabbed his coat and an umbrella off the rack, too, and caught Blaise at the door. "I'll walk with you, bud. I was headed toward the bus station, myself."

Suddenly realizing he was alone with Tori again, JT lifted his arms. "Don't look at me!" He grabbed his pack off the floor and followed the other men out.

* * *

Blaise got no further than the end of the block before the pounding headache started again. He stopped and rubbed his temple.

"The headaches – are they getting worse?"

"Define 'worse,'" he grumbled, his normal good nature struggling to come out. "They distract me from other things, so in that respect, I consider them a blessing."

"Give her time, Blaise," Vincent said. "She's never been at this place before. She doesn't understand what to do."

"It's been a week. No offense, Vincent, but you've hardly walked in my shoes."

"No. But I've walked in _hers_."

Blaise turned to him. It was eerie how good his sense of direction was.

"I'll move back to the apartment tomorrow. I didn't mean to be a burden on you guys. This is my responsibility."

"You're not a . . . Look, all I'm asking is that you be patient a little while longer. Tori's in a self-discovery mode. She'll find her footing, trust me. In the meantime, you're welcome to stay. Just . . . let me do some tests. Those headaches concern me."

"They're nothing I haven't had before. But this time, I don't know. I keep getting these flashes of light."

"Doesn't hurt to take a look." Vincent watched him. "You're not really headed to work, are you?"

Blaise smirked. "It's my day off. Want to get a beer?"

* * *

Already showered and changed, Tess stuffed her gym clothes into her bag. "I can't believe you pooped out on me so fast. Used to be, I couldn't touch you at that game. What gives?"

Cat frowned, sweat still running into her eyes and stinging. "I don't know. I've been feeling extremely tired lately."

"Too much lounging around on beaches when you should have been helping your partner—Okay, okay, I'll stop."

"Heather's going to be here in another week and she's got so much energy. I guess I'm feeling my age. I wanted to get back into shape before she makes some comment about how old I'm getting."

"Yeah, because you're _so _old."

"Feels like it." She opened her locker. "Maybe I caught a bug somewhere. I mean, I'm fine; just tired."

"Nothing else? No tossing your breakfast every morning or strange cravings?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. This whole Tori thing still has me freaked. I shouldn't have said that. You and Vincent are way more responsible. Why are you frowning?"

Catherine flipped open her purse and her took out her phone.

"You're not late again, are you? I was just kidding."

Catherine rubbed her forehead. "I kinda lost track of my schedule in Miami. I'm not sure if I am or not." She studied her calendar. "Tess, I think I'm late."

"Again? No, no, no. You're just tired and off your normal schedule—just like last time—because you've had a lot on your mind. You were worried about Arielle, now Heather's coming back. And Tori—it's probably just . . . empathy hormones!"

"What?"

"It's a thing."

"That's not a thing. And I'm not as freaked out as you think."

"No, _I _was the one freaked out. And JT. Because you left us here to deal with it."

"I'm sorry. We should have been here for you."

"Instead, you were soaking in the tropical sun—"

"You're never going to forgive me for that, are you?"

"Not unless you take me with you next time for a week at that condo."

"Actually, that's probably when it happened," Cat murmured.

Ever practical, Tess rallied. "Okay, let's not panic. Don't get ahead of yourself. Do a test?"

"In a few more days. It's too early, yet."

"Are you going to tell Vincent?"

"I have to, right? I mean, if something happens and I lose it, he still would want to know that it happened."

Tess looked suspicious. "You guys weren't planning this, were you?"

"No. If, in fact, it's true—which I'm sure it's not—it's all my fault. I was careless."

"Okay, so how do you feel about it? I mean, if it _is _true?"

Catherine slumped down onto a nearby bench. "You know, if you'd asked me that last year, even six months ago, I'd say out-of-my-wits terrified." She heard Vincent's words in her head from the first time they had a scare. _'Catherine, this can't happen…we can never have a baby,'_ and frowned.

"But now?"

"Tori's baby might be normal. If I'm pregnant—I said if—mine could be, too."

"But you won't know that until you deliver."

"Probably not."

"And then it will be too late!"

"Tess, no matter what, I don't think I could abort Vincent's child, beast DNA or not. I couldn't do it."

"Because it's your 'love child'? C'mon, Cat. Get real."

"Tess—"

"I'm shutting up." Tess threw her head back and sighed. "God. What has my life become?"

Catherine smiled. "More interesting than you could ever imagine?"

Tess smirked. "You got that right."

* * *

"Knock, knock." Gabe let himself into the club without waiting for a response. JT looked up from the desk. "Is Vincent around?"

"What's up?" Vincent emerged from the side room.

"Hey, Vincent. Catherine said you might be open to taking on another case or two. I've got another missing—"

"No more pets. Dogs don't exactly like me, remember?"

"—person, actually. A teen."

Vincent's head perked up.

"It's a sensitive case—she's the sixteen-year-old daughter of a local congressman—and they'd like to keep this hush-hush because of the publicity it would cause. What do you think?"

"How long has she been missing, and why don't they consider her a runaway?"

"Since yesterday afternoon. She never made it home from school. And she's not the runaway type. Honor student, well adjusted. The congressman's up for re-election and has received some threats regarding his stance on an issue. He's afraid it's some sort of retaliation."

"But there's been no ransom note?"

"Just this." Gabe handed him a pieced together note from newspaper cuttings. It read, simply, 'Change your mind.'

Vincent looked it over with all of his senses. He already knew where to start. "You want me to find the perp or the kid?"

"Both, if you've got time. But start with the girl." Gabe handed him a recent school photo. "I'd hate to see anything happen to her. By the way, this is a paying gig. You got creds, now. Just . . . take a few hours to find her, would you? It will look mighty suspicious if you find everyone in fifteen minutes or less."

Vincent frowned, but he knew Gabe was right. Just didn't seem best to hold off when a young person was in danger. He looked down at the picture of the brown-haired girl and thought of Catherine and the first time he saved her. Seconds count. As soon as Gabe left, he grabbed his jacket and headed out.

* * *

A week later, Catherine stood before her bathroom mirror. She was definitely late. And still dead tired. She'd stopped at the drug store on her way home from work and purchased a pregnancy test. Until that moment, it hadn't seemed real. But there was no point in delaying. Vincent was already in bed, awaiting her. It was now or never. She put on a smile and slid under the heavy sheets.

He dragged her beneath him and stared down into her eyes. "What's up? You seem . . . pensive."

Always so perceptive. Had her heart given her away again? It wasn't fair. She placed her hands on either side of beautiful face and licked her bottom lip in a nervous gesture. He grinned.

"You're trying to distract me, aren't you? Why? Feeling okay?"

It was if he could read her mind. "Yeah. Yeah, just . . . really tired."

"Want me to go? I don't need to stay tonight if you need extra rest."

"I think we're long past that." She followed the arch of his brow with her finger. "Vincent, I don't know how to tell you this but, . . . I'm late."

"You need to go? Where?"

"No. Not . . . late for an appointment. I'm _late _late. As in—"

"Late?" He grinned again.

That was not the reaction she was expecting. Okay, then. Feeling emboldened, she rushed ahead. "With all the stuff going on with Tori and Blaise . . . I didn't want to alarm you, but—"

"Who's alarmed?"

She tilted her head at him. "Vincent. I might be pregnant. For _real_."

He sat up and she pushed herself up next to him. "It's my fault. In Miami, I wasn't paying attention—"

"Have you taken a test yet?"

"—and I'm so sorry. What? No. It's—it's in the bathroom. I should probably do it, right?"

He weaved his long fingers through her hair. "Catherine, there's no fault here, okay? It's not like we haven't both known what could possibly happen. There's no fool-proof method. Take the test, first. Until then, there's no reason to panic."

"But you're not panicking." She frowned. "The last time this happened, you said we could _never _have a baby. What if—"

He slid his hands down her bare arms in a soothing gesture. "I know. I tell myself we shouldn't—that I shouldn't want it—but . . ."

"After seeing how happy Tori and Blaise were—"

"—past tense, but that will change. And yes. I want it, too."

She looped her arms around his neck and stared into his eyes framed by those beautiful, dark lashes. "You are my past, my present, and my future."

Their noses rubbed, his breath her own. It was these moments she loved the most. He was always with her in the moment, every breath, every beat of her heart. She had no doubt he'd be with her every step of the way.

He kissed a corner of her open mouth, their tongues automatically seeking each other out, then he pulled back and looked at her. "Then let's find out what the future holds, okay?" He gently pressed her away from him and nodded toward the bathroom door.

"Okay." She started to rise. He grabbed her hand.

"Hey. Whatever happens, we'll face it together, right?"

She nodded and stepped out of bed. A few minutes later she returned, the indicator in her hand. She placed it face down on the headboard.

"Two minutes?" he asked, folding her back beneath him. She nodded solemnly. "And if the results are positive? What then?"

Nose to nose, eyelashes almost to eyelashes, she found her center in his gaze. She shook her head, a tiny movement that spoke volumes. "I'm going to enjoy the magic of this moment for as long as I can."

The timer chimed seconds later.

"You look and tell me. I can't do it," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll know by the look in your eyes."

"What are you hoping it will say?"

"I'm not, I'm just – we need to know one way or another."

"Okay. I'm turning it over. You ready?"

"Probably not. Just do it."

Vincent reached above their heads and turned the indicator over. Despite already expecting the answer, tears formed in his eyes and he swallowed with difficulty. He looked back at her.

Her eyes grew big.

Vincent let out the breath he was holding and put his forehead back on hers.

"Oh, my God…"

* * *

Journal Entry, May 6, 2014

_Vincent,_

_Today I learned I'm carrying your child._

_At first, a thousand thoughts ran through my head, and then only one: I am so in love with you. Those were your words to me so long ago now, but I'll never forget how they nearly brought me to my knees. And I love you just the same—with everything I am, all my hopes and dreams, and that includes what I want for the future—with you._

_I'm not getting any younger, and neither are you. But one thing I know: you deserve every happiness this world has to offer, and I want you to have this much at least—a family. I can't replace the one you lost—your parents, your brothers, your nephew and God knows who else—because of Muirfield and my wicked father's schemes. But we can start a new one today—with a new life._

_Yes, I'm terrified. I'm delighted. I'm amazed and filled with doubt. But I know, together, we can do this, if you take my hand . . . ._

* * *

Vincent prowled the rooftops, aimlessly moving from place to place. It was a habit he no longer needed but couldn't seem to shake. The shadows and heights had been his home and sanctuary for too long. Tonight they provided no answers, though. Looking out over the city, he thought about the sixteen-year-old congressman's daughter. He'd found her in a warehouse—terrified, but thankfully still unhurt—and the ending had been a happy one. Once again. Only this time, he knew the true terror of being a parent. What if it had been _his _daughter? What if one day it is?

He pressed the thought away. Last week, the girl. This week, a kid from the barrios, tricked out on drugs. How could people endure it? Never mind that accidents were a fact of life; so was danger from evil people intent on murder and mayhem. There was no safe place to hide.

He thought of Bob Reynolds, Catherine's father. Gabe had given them all the news just the day before that he was going to trial. A special prosecutor had been assigned. How could someone so evil be a parent? Yet he seemed to care for his daughter, in his own demented way.

Catherine had not told him the news, of that he was sure. But she would struggle with the trial. He'd spare her that if he could.

What he hadn't been able to protect her from was the reaction of her friends. One in particular: Gabriel Lowen.

"_Seriously?_" Gabe stood ram-rod straight in the club the day Vincent broke the news to him. He'd come to deliver another missing person request and, knowing the guy's history of pining for Catherine, Vincent hadn't been able to refrain from blurting out the good news. This would end all hopes for Gabe, period. It was a _good _thing.

"What is this, blood moon rising?" Gabe asked, his voice climbing. "Is there something in the water around here? Why don't we all just start our own beast colony—"

"Because you're no longer a beast and don't count," Vincent had the bad manners to point out.

"While you two were cavorting around the everglades—"

"Oh, _cavorting_, were we? I thought we were chasing down a kidnapper-turned-murderer who also had a penchant for the bizarre—as in _beasts_—"

"—I've had my hands full dealing with Tori and Blaise, and now you two want the same thing? Have either of you stopped to consider the ramifications of your actions?"

Vincent stepped into Gabe's personal space and occupied the air above him. Height _did _have its advantages. "Yes. It's called a future. And it's the only one I've got. I'm not going to lose it, or waste time worrying about what might happen. I won't leave Catherine, and she won't leave me. That means I'm her only future. She deserves the same happiness and opportunities that every other woman on this planet wants—and that includes a family. You want to deny her that?"

"Certainly not. But haven't you ever heard of adoption?"

"Yeah. How'd that work out for _you?_"

Gabe ignored him and tried again, though what he thought he'd accomplish, Vincent didn't know. "Lots of couples can't have children, Vincent. I thought you understood."

"But we _can_."

"Obviously."

"I understand your concerns, I do. More than anyone. And yes, it makes me nervous. But we'll do the tests. We'll find out what we're up against. At least let us enjoy this happy moment. We'll figure it out. One day at a time. You care about her, too. You know I'm right. I'm done telling her no."

"Really?" Gabe shrugged. "Then why stop there? Why not a wedding while you're at it?"

"That's a definite possibility."

"In a few years, you could help with Little League while Catherine serves on the PTA. Some irate parent doesn't like the way your child beats theirs in the game and—"

"Okay, enough. You're just jealous, admit it."

"Vincent, if Catherine is happy, then I'm happy. You know that. But this is insane. Why don't you move next door to Tori and Blaise—"

"That's not happening." Tori spoke from the doorway. Both men turned.

"Why not?"

"Because Blaise left."

"Again? He's blind, for heaven's sake," Gabe pointed out unnecessarily. "How far could he get? I'll help you find him."

"I'm perfectly capable of tracking him. That's not the point."

"Tori, why do you think he left?" Vincent asked. "I thought you guys worked it out."

"I don't know. He said he had something important to do after work. But he hasn't come home yet."

"I set him up with a specialist—an ophthalmologist. Maybe it took longer than expected. That's probably where he is."

Tori frowned. "Why? He's seen enough doctors, Vincent. He doesn't need false hope."

"I thought he might be able to help with the headaches, that's all."

"Fine. You two figure it out." Gabe crumpled up the paper he'd intended to leave with Vincent. "I'm done with all of you. I've got _real _work to do."

It was the last they'd seen of Gabe for a week.

Vincent watched a silver line spread steadily across the distant horizon. Dawn was coming, but what would this new day bring?

* * *

Gabe Lowen sauntered to the cell that housed the man he considered a bigger threat than any beast he'd ever known—Bob Reynolds.

"What do you want, Lowen? Another favor? I'm all out."

"Don't think, just because you're coming to trial, that you have any hope of seeing the outside world anytime soon."

"Oh, thanks for the encouragement. Now, get out."

"Tori was right. You had off-shore contacts after all. Makes me wonder what else have you been lying to me about."

"I guess you'll just have to go on wondering."

"Dauphinais is dead, by the way."

Bob's eyelids thinned to slits. "As long as Catherine is safe, that's all I care about."

"Oh, she's fine. But speaking of Tori, have you heard the news?"

"What do I care about Tori? She's _your _problem."

"She's pregnant."

Bob lifted his head. "Are you insane?!" He grabbed the cell bars as if he could wrench them apart. "I should have killed her when I had the chance. Now, what have you done?"

Gabe shrugged, happy to poke an angry bear and get away with it. "Apparently, love is in the air. What can I say?" With that, he strolled back to the exit door and signaled for the guard. The only real monster he knew was already in a cage.

* * *

Catherine took a deep breath and climbed the stairs to the apartment, forcing her feet to move in front of her. It wasn't that she didn't want to be there. She just didn't want to be there. But she'd had this conversation with herself ten times already since waking up, and she knew what she needed to do.

Tori, apparently sensing her arrival, opened the door before she could knock. "Blaise isn't here."

"Actually, I'm not here to see Blaise," Catherine said determinedly. "I came to see you."

Tori blanched, then had the presence of mind to step back and let her in.

Catherine couldn't help glancing around and seeing the general disarray of the room. Things had obviously decayed into chaos since she'd last visited with Vincent. The floors were clear—that much was helpful—and probably in response to living with a blind person, but the rest of the space was badly neglected. Remembering her manners, she quickly turned her eyes on her host. "I thought we could talk."

* * *

Tori stood for a long time in front of the big bay window facing the street after Catherine left. Blaise had yet to return and for the first time she was glad of it. She wasn't sure what to feel. Catherine was pregnant, too? Part of her wanted to gloat that she'd been first. The one and only time she could probably ever claim advantage over the petite detective.

That wasn't fair. Catherine had been . . . 'kind' was the only word to come to mind. Rather than judging her for her troubles with Blaise, she'd been encouraging, even admitting she wasn't so good with relationships, herself, but if she needed a friend to talk to, she'd make herself available.

Something hurt deep inside. It was probably her pride giving up the ghost. She needed a friend and there weren't many to be had.

She turned, resolved. Things had to change and the change had to begin with her. And then she felt it—something running down her legs. Blood.

The cramping came on in a fury and she dropped to her knees.

Blaise returned home to find her in the same spot in a puddle of what he instantly sensed was blood. It took him too many lost seconds, but he finally found his Braille phone and dialed the only contact number he had—Vincent.

"She'll be okay." Vincent watched Catherine pace restlessly up and down the small waiting area.

"I just saw her this morning," she replied, a thumbnail in her teeth.

"Catherine, you had nothing to do with it. Tori miscarried and no one's to blame. Don't do that to your nails, sweetheart. She'll be fine."

That's when she broke down. Vincent jumped up and held her.

"I haven't been pregnant as long as she was, but I can't imagine what she's feeling right now," she sobbed into his shirt. "I don't think I could go through it."

"Hey." He forced her to look at him. "Just because Tori miscarried doesn't mean you will, too. Everyone's different. Every woman and every pregnancy. Honey, don't cry."

"I just feel so heartbroken for them. Oh, Vincent!"

Just then, Blaise came out of the hospital room. "She's sleeping now. They're going to let her rest for a few hours, then release her."

"I'm so sorry." Catherine wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you, Catherine." He let her hug him for a moment, then leaned her away. "Tori told me you had some news of your own this morning."

Catherine immediately put her hand to her belly, the area that had already fractionally increased, although it would be noticeable to no one else but her. She nodded but dissolved into tears again.

"She's just feeling emotional right now." Vincent wrapped her back in his arms and laid a hand on Blaise's shoulder.

"You'll be all right?"

"Yep. Tori is okay. That's all that matters. Thank you for everything."

Vincent nodded, although he'd done nothing other than get them an ambulance and help Blaise with the arrangements at the hospital.

"I'm going to stay with her," Blaise said.

"Okay, buddy. Call me when you're ready to go and I'll come back and pick you both up."

"Thanks, Bro."

They watched him return to the patient room and close the door.

"Will they be all right?"

"Yes." Vincent scanned the area for anyone within hearing distance. "Will Tess be able to arrange it?" he asked, meaning getting hold of a blood sample from the fetus.

Catherine nodded. "She's already on it."

* * *

JT analyzed the sample with painstaking effort. Finally, he finished his work and turned to all present. "It's normal. The baby's DNA has none of the 'enhanced' factors that would indicate 'bestiality.'"

Vincent turned to Catherine, afraid to hope and at the same time heartbroken over Tori and Blaise's loss.

"No one can say the next child will be the same, but this one was completely human."

* * *

Bob Reynolds stood as the guard escorted the suited man to the front of his cell door, then he waited until the guard left before acknowledging him.

Finally, the steel door clanged closed and they were alone.

"Did you get it?"

The man, in business attire and short-cropped hair, smirked. "Of course. Took us a while, but the site was vacant."

"Excellent."

***End***

_A/N – Beloved readers, this ends Part I of this story. Please watch for the continuation story soon to come. I'm already started on it. It will be under a new story name (still undecided), so if you don't already follow me, set that up so that you will get notified when I post next. Thank you for reading! xx_


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